


Chrysalis Unbound

by sharim28



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharim28/pseuds/sharim28
Summary: Doctor Carter AU. One day, in between the stars and a cluttered lab, she found herself without realising it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou so much to Nellie for the amazing beta job - you are amazing x 
> 
> And thank you so much to my Beautiful Slackers, who are there every day for support, encouragement and laughter. So glad I found you all xx
> 
> \---

“ _Perhaps the butterfly is proof that you can go through a great deal of darkness yet become something beautiful” - Beau Taplin_

 

**1996**

There are so few women on base, that he doesn’t even think to check the sign when he barges into the locker room. The woman he walks in on spins around, jerking back against the lockers with her sweater half-on. He’s backing away with his hands in the air, apologising, and is almost at the door before he sees the bruise on her upper arm. He stops, staring at the livid purple marks stark against her pale skin.

“What the hell-”

“Please, get out,” she interrupts, pushing her arm into the sleeve of her sweater and hiding the bruise from view.

Those marks are not the result of combat, and the woman against the lockers is no combat veteran. Jack knows on one level that abuse is real, but to see hard evidence of it in front of him, on a woman he’s never met, makes his stomach turn. “I don’t… Are you okay?” It’s quite possibly one of the dumbest questions he has ever asked, but he’s not good at stuff like this and really has no idea what else to say.

“I’m fine.” She turns her back on him and digs around in her locker, obviously expecting him to leave.

But he doesn’t leave, and eventually she turns around and starts to walk towards the door.

Jack reaches out a hand to stop her, and pulls back when she flinches away from him, avoiding his gaze as she stares at the ground next to his feet.

“I just… whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve you. You don’t deserve that.”

Her gaze flicks to his, briefly. Her eyes are as blue as the Stargate Jack has just returned through, and for a second he thinks he could lose himself in them, but she breaks his gaze and looks at the floor again.

“It’s nothing,” she murmurs, still staring at the ground.

She wears her blond hair long, half pulled back over her shoulders with shorter strands framing her face. He takes the opportunity to study it, noting that despite the makeup there’s a hint of bruising on her cheek that her hair doesn’t quite hide, and her lip is obviously swollen and looks split.

“It’s not nothing,” he says. “It’s not right.”

“And it’s none of your business,” she says sharply. He’s pleased that despite the fact that her eyes avoid his and her posture is ready for flight, her voice carries a thread of steel.

“No,” he agrees, because he’s not sure what else he can say.

“I need to go.”

He steps aside and lets her leave, and the lightness in his soul after their victory and his new perspective on life is weighed down as he considers the door swinging shut behind the woman as she leaves.

Often over the next year, as Jack regains his own equilibrium with this new life he is living, he thinks about the blond woman with blue eyes and bruised skin. He wonders if she left whoever was hurting her. He wonders if she’s still in Cheyenne Mountain, working on that alien ring.

He wonders if she’s okay.

And he wishes he had done something more than let her just run out the door and disappear.

 

## Chapter One

The familiar – and awful – taste of cold coffee forces Sam to look away from her simulation, and she realises that once again she has stayed far later than she intended too. She’s powering down her computer when two women enter her lab.

“Doctor Carter?”

Lieutenant Claire Tobias is one of the last people Sam ever expected to see in her lab. She’s accompanied by Doctor Fraiser, who is not often found outside of her infirmary. Sam looks at them curiously.

“Yes?”

“Can you shoot a gun?”

Sam blinks. “I beg your pardon?”

“Can you shoot a gun? We have a situation on base, and we need man-power. Well, woman-power in this instance.”

Sam stares at Doctor Fraiser, and then Lieutenant Tobias, and wonders if it’s possible that alternate realities actually exist.

“Doctor?”

“I shot a gun once at a fair. You know, those competitions where you try to knock the milk cans over. Does that count?”

The two woman glance at each other, and even though they’re the epitome of professionalism she’s pretty sure they’re rolling their eyes at each other on the inside.

Doctor Fraiser is the one to speak. “That will do.”

_Things must be bad_ , Sam thinks as she follows them out of the lab, the once familiar burn of anxiety and fear coiling in her belly. Things must be _really_ bad if they’re desperate enough to give her a gun.

\---

She’s terrified out of her mind; the fear is like a drug and everything seems slow and fast all at once until all she can focus on is the unfamiliar feel of the firearm she’s clutching in her clammy hands, and the effort it takes to breathe.

“You okay?” Doctor Fraiser’s voice is clear but quiet in her ear.

Sam doesn’t think she can answer, so she nods her head instead, tightening her shoulders and clenching her fingers tighter around the gun in her hands.

In front of her, Lieutenant Tobias is motioning with her hands, and silently she follows the two women around a corner, stopping when she sees them confronting an airman. Lieutenant Tobias drops the man with a well aimed blow, and Sam feels a pang of envy; she’d love to be that strong and confident and capable.

Two seconds later General Hammond steps into view behind the two women. “Drop your weapons!” he orders, holding a handgun fixed on Dr Fraiser.

Sam freezes, her heart hammering in her chest as she peers around the corner. Doctor Fraiser catches her eye and tilts her chin stiffly, trying to communicate with her, but Sam has no idea what she’s telling her to do. She knows her gun is loaded with tranquilizers, but this is _General Hammond_ , her boss, the man in charge of the whole base, and if she _shoots_ him and it turns out there hasn’t been some crazy alien incursion and all the men aren’t acting loopy then–

It happens so fast, Sam doesn’t even realise she’s pulled the trigger, but suddenly General Hammond is staggering towards her, the gun falling from his fingers, before he collapses onto the ground. Sam is staring at him in shock, trying not to look at the tranquilizer dart stuck in his arm.

“Nice shot!” Lieutenant Tobias sounds surprised, and reluctantly impressed.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! I shot him! What was I thinking! Oh my God I’m going to be fired, what am I going to say to him when he wakes–”

“Doctor Carter, calm down!” Doctor Fraiser’s hands are on her shoulders, holding her still. “You did good,” she says, her voice calm, forcing Sam to look at her and not the General out cold on the ground. “You did good. You won’t be fired. I promise, we’ll fix him up good as new and he’ll be very impressed that you helped save the base, but right now, we still have work to do. I need you to focus. Can you do that?”

Sam tries hard not to hyperventilate.

“We still have a threat we need to neutralize, Doctor Carter. Or Samantha, can I call you Samantha?”

“Sam,” she manages to croak out. “And yes, I can do that. I just need a minute. I’ve never shot anyone before.”

Doctor Fraiser grins at her, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s hope you don’t have to shoot anyone else today, or you might start getting used to it.”

Sam tries to smile, but her lips don’t want to work. “How do I put another dart in this thing?” she asks instead, lifting her gun.

“Take mine, I’ll reload yours.”

They switch weapons, and continue making their way through the SGC.

Lieutenant Tobias neutralises a guard in front of a locked door, and releases one of the members of SG-1 that Sam recognises as Teal’c. She’s seen Teal’c from a distance several times at the SGC, and is aware of him by reputation, but she’s never been so close to him before, or realised just how _big_ he actually is. She tries not to hide behind Doctor Fraiser.

“I am pleased to see you, Lieutenant Tobias.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Teal’c.”

Sam stays at the back of the group with Doctor Fraiser as they continue through the SGC, heading towards the locker room. Around them, the corridors are strangely devoid of activity, and that alone is enough to concern Sam who’s used to a dizzying array of soldiers and scientists and technicians.

She’s still not really sure how she, a scientist, has ended up in this little band of soldiers and warriors, and she’s terrified she’ll be the one to screw it all up. That she’ll be the one who lets the team down because she gets scared or can’t cope with the pressure.

The locker room is steamy and hot, the lighting dim, and the bubbling of the hydrotherapy pool sounds strangely ominous. A limp figure lies at the ground in front of the pool, and Doctor Fraiser pushes past to go assess whoever it is. There’s a crescendo in activity, and Sam feels herself pulled back by Teal’c, into an alcove tucked out of sight.

From the billowing steam around the pool, a figure emerges, eyes flashing gold, and Sam’s belly lurches in fear. A strong, solid hand is wrapped around her shoulder, keeping her still despite her instinct to run as far and fast as she can, and she fights the panic bubbling up inside her.

“Be still,” Teal’c whispers in her ear, and the panic grows wilder, struggling against the hold he has on her arm and the weight of him pushing her against the cold tiles of the wall. She forgets about the alien threat and the danger, and all she feels is being held down and trapped with no way to break free.

“You are safe,” Teal’c says quietly, relaxing his hold but not letting go. “You are safe. I will let no harm come to you.”

She’s forgotten she’s supposed to be a warrior, and instead she’s back in that room, back being that woman who couldn’t save herself. The woman who couldn’t get away.

“Here is your weapon.” His voice is quiet in her ear, his hand on her shoulder again, but now a gentle rub instead of the death grip of before. She’s aware of his breadth behind her, the weight of his hand, the gentleness in his voice. Her fingers find purchase on the weapon she’d forgotten about, and somehow, with him behind her she feels steadier, safe in his shadow.

“Thank you,” she whispers, finding her voice. The room before them is still steamy and poorly lit, she can see Lieutenant Tobias and Doctor Fraiser approaching the hydrotherapy bath. She’s ashamed she has no idea what happened and if they are still in danger. “Thank you,” she says again. “I’m okay now.”

His hand tightens briefly on her shoulder, and she feels something comforting with him standing beside her. “Let us be of assistance.”

She’s still disoriented and disconcerted, past memories mingling with the shadows and steam around them. She sticks close to Teal’c’s side, thankful that he accepts her presence with him as they approach the hydrotherapy bath and the limp figure within it.

“Oh, oh my God.” The water is alive and furious around the still figure in the bath. “What are those things?”

“Larval Goa’uld,” Teal’c supplies from beside her.

“We need to get him out,” Doctor Fraiser says urgently.

Teal’c hauls the still silent and unmoving man out of the bath, and drags him towards a bench. “What did she do to him?” Doctor Fraiser breathes as she pushes his shirt apart to reveal a large deformity across his abdomen.

“What is that?” Sam asks, horrified.

“A pouch in which a larval symbiote will mature,” Teal’c replies. “All Jaffa have this.”

To Sam’s disgust and horror, Doctor Fraiser thrusts her hand into the man’s abdomen. “Nothing in there yet, thankfully.”

“Colonel O’Neill will no longer have an immune system,” Teal’c says. “Without a Goa’uld symbiote, he will soon die.”

Sam glances at the man hanging from Teal’c’s shoulder, taking in the blank gaze and complete lack of reaction to his surroundings; a part of her finds it an irony that both times she’s met him, it’s been in this locker room.

“Let’s take him to the infirmary,” Doctor Fraiser suggests.

“You do not have the means with which to assist him,” Teal’c says.

“What are you saying, Teal’c?” Lieutenant Tobias demands.

“The Goa’uld sarcophagus may yet heal him.”

“Good plan,” Lieutenant Tobias agrees. “Let’s go. Doctor Carter, you help Teal’c. Doctor Fraiser, watch our six.”

Colonel O’Neill is wet and heavy against her, and Sam struggles to help drag him down the hall while juggling her weapon, but they eventually reach the gate room and lower the Colonel into the sarcophagus. Teal’c touches something on the sarcophagus and the device rumbles to life, slowly sliding shut until the Colonel is hidden from view.

Sam’s whole attention is now riveted on the sarcophagus, studying it’s detail greedily. A device that heals all human injuries, and can revive the dead. Her fingers itch to get a look at it, to understand how it’s put together.

“Do you think it will work?” she asks, but before anyone can answer an alarm alerts them to the blast doors opening. Teal’c has hold of her arm and pushes her down behind the sarcophagus as bullets spray into the room; she can feel his body jerk and hears him grunt as he is hit.

“Teal’c!” she cries, her hand wrapping around his wrist as his weight crashes down on top of her.

“I am okay,” he says, but his voice is tight with pain.

Beside them the sarcophagus grinds to life again, and she hears a female voice - Hathor, she supposes - barking out a cease fire. Minutes later, Colonel O’Neill launches himself out of the sarcophagus and lands beside her and Teal’c. A blast wave follows him, but the sarcophagus takes the brunt of it.

Sam can hear a high pitched whine building in the sarcophagus, and blue lightning starts playing over it.

“This does not sound good.” Colonel O’Neill grabs at her and Teal’c, and the three of them scrabble out of a blast door behind Lieutenant Tobias and Doctor Fraiser. A huge energy wave crashes through the blast doors before they’re completely shut, and Sam finds herself once again knocked off her feet, landing heavily on her hip, grunting in pain as someone falls on top of her.

She’s lying on her back, dazed, with a wet and heavy weight on top of her. When she opens her eyes, she finds Colonel O’Neill staring down at her, and for a second, time seems to stand still. Then he moves, pushing off her, and her skin feels cold in those places where her clothes are now wet.

“You okay?” he asks.

Sam gasps, trying to catch her breath, trying to clear her mind from the ringing. Her hip is aching, and right now she’s had enough, but she’s okay. “Yeah,” she gasps.

“Doc, get yourself and Teal’c to the infirmary and patched up. Maybe take her,” he nods at Sam, “with you. Tobias, you’re with me - we have a Goa’uld to neutralize.”

Sam doesn’t argue when Teal’c helps haul her to her feet, and she limps down the corridor towards the infirmary, wondering if Colonel O’Neill remembers or recognises her.

She hopes not.

\---

Sam stays in the infirmary with Doctor Fraiser long after word comes through that the Goa’uld is gone, watching as the medical officer patches up various injuries sustained over the course of the evening. Teal’c reappears at some point, alongside Daniel, who Doctor Fraiser whisks away into a cubicle. Teal’c hands Sam one of the large cups of coffee he’s carrying, and to her surprise, sits beside her on the edge of the bed she’s been using as a chair.

“I do not believe we have been introduced,” he states as she takes a sip from the hot and welcome drink. “I am Teal’c.”

Sam smiles at him. “I know. I’m Sam.”

He tilts his head and raises his eyebrow at her. “Doctor Samantha Carter,” she elaborates when she realises that’s what he is waiting for.

“It is an honour to meet you, Doctor Carter.”

She feels herself blush. “I wouldn’t go that far, Teal’c. And please, call me Sam.”

His gaze is frank and steady. “I believe you are the one who created the dialling program for the Tau’ri, thus enabling you to use the Stargate.”

“Well, it wasn’t just me,” Sam is quick to point out. “Daniel was the one who-”

“Yes,” Teal’c cuts her off. “However without your expertise, Daniel Jackson would have not been able to help activate the Stargate.”

Sam shrugs, uncomfortable with Teal’c’s assertions.

“Thanks for looking after me tonight,” she says instead, clasping the warm mug between her fingers and making a pretense of taking a long swallow so she gets a reprieve from the intensity of his gaze.

“You conducted yourself with honor. Doctor Fraiser informed me that you saved both herself and Captain Tobias. Without your assistance their mission would have been unsuccessful.”

“Well,” Sam hedges. “I’m sure they would have figured something out. I just got lucky.”

“Perhaps,” Teal’c says. “Or perhaps you are more capable than you believe.”

Sam doesn’t answer; doesn’t think she can answer that. Instead, she takes another sip of her coffee and mulls over his words. Teal’c sits beside her, silent and patient, until Daniel and Doctor Fraiser emerge from their consultation.

“Big night, wasn’t it?” Daniel asks with a quick smile as Teal’c stands up and walks over to him.

“Huge,” she says emphatically, smiling at him.

She’s always liked Daniel, with his affable personality and genuine interest in her work. If he wasn’t so tied up with SG-1 and off-world so often, she thinks the two of them could work well together.

“You did an incredible job,” Doctor Fraiser says with a smile. “Particularly for someone who’s only fired a gun in carnival games.”

Sam blushes again. “Maybe I need to think about some training with a gun.”

“That’s not a bad idea at all,” Doctor Fraiser nods. “I think maybe we need to consider basic marksmanship training for all personnel on base. I’ll bring it up with General Hammond during the debrief.”

“Going up now?” Daniel asks Doctor Fraiser.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

The two men leave the room while Doctor Fraiser heads to her desk and collects a stash of papers. Sam climbs off the bed, feeling oddly reluctant to leave the sanctuary the infirmary has provided after the crazy night.

“I haven’t thanked you yet,” Doctor Fraiser says as she turns to face Sam.

“For what?”

“For helping us. For taking the risk. And for saving Lieutenant Tobias and myself.”

“I didn’t save you,” Sam says, waving it off.

“Yes, you did,” Doctor Fraiser says seriously. “General Hammond was under the influence of an alien substance, Sam, and he had live rounds in that pistol. You were an asset to us tonight, and without you it might be a very different situation in here right now.”

“Doctor Fraiser-”

“Call me Janet,” the doctor cuts her off. “After what we’ve been through tonight, I’m pretty sure we can dispense with the formalities. Besides, there aren’t so many women on this base that we can’t afford not to be friends with the ones that are here. What do you think?”

Sam finds herself smiling at the woman in front of her, unable to help herself being drawn in by her open warmth and invitation. “I think that would be nice.”

“Excellent. I need to go to this debriefing now, but maybe we need to organise a girls night out at some point.”

And with that, the doctor whirls out of the infirmary leaving it still and quiet.

Sam heads to her lab, thinking it’s been a long time since she had a friend.

\---

It’s so late that it’s the next morning now, and Sam doesn’t see the point in going home. She’s exhausted and exhilarated and still running high on adrenalin, not quite believing the night wasn’t some crazy dream. The ache in her wrists, and the bruises on her hip assure her it all really did happen.

There’s a noise at the door, and she looks up to see Colonel O’Neill leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re still here,” he says.

“Technically I only started an hour ago.”

Her eyes clash with his, and she feels an unexpected jolt in her belly. She tears her gaze away from his, staring down at her desk instead.

“I actually meant _here,_ as in ‘still working here’.”

Ah, so he does remember her. She feels uncomfortable under his scrutiny now, and tries to turn away so he can’t see her face. She wonders what he thinks of her, given what he knows about her.

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, when she fails to say anything. Obviously her strategy of ignoring him is not going to work.

“Since the beginning.” He pins her with that gaze again, and despite herself she elaborates. “Since the Stargate Project was reopened a few years ago, before the first Abydos mission.”

“That long? How have I not seen you around?”

She shrugs again; it’s not like Colonel O’Neill is known for his love of scientists, and when you’re not a field scientist it’s actually quite easy to hide away in the labs. Particularly if you’re trying to avoid someone.

To her horror, he’s sitting down on a stool opposite her now, clearly settling in for a visit. “What’s this?” he asks, reaching out to touch the power cell she has wired up for simulations.

“No!” The reaction is automatic, and she slaps his hand away quickly. “If you destabilize this it could blow up!”

He looks briefly disconcerted, looking down at the innocuous little pod hooked up to the multiple wires around it. “It could blow up?” he asks doubtfully.

“It’s very dangerous,” she says firmly.

They drop into silence again, and Sam wonders exactly what he is doing in her lab. She wants to sneak a peek at him, to maybe see what he’s thinking, but she’s pretty sure he’s still watching her and she’s not entirely comfortable with the sort of scrutiny his gaze contains.

“I heard the sarcophagus was destroyed,” she says eventually, unable to stand the silence.

“Yeah. Blown to smithereens. You should see the Gate room. Hammond’s really annoyed, Siler had only just finished painting it.”

Sam feels a stab of guilt at the mention of Hammond’s name, but when she finally works up the courage to look over at the Colonel sitting by her desk, she’s a bit surprised to see a hint of humour in his eyes.

“Is General Hammond okay?” she asks nervously.

He grins openly at her, again surprising her. “You mean after you _shot_ him?” he asks gleefully.

The guilt twists and rises like bile in her throat while the anxiety burns. She needs to find her roll of Tumms; she’s going to get another ulcer at this rate. “Oh boy,” she whispers, closing her eyes. “I’m going to be fired, aren’t I?”

“Nah,” the Colonel says, still smiling. “Hammond’s been shot before. You didn’t hit anything important, and you stopped him from taking out Doc Fraiser, so I think he’ll keep you around. Besides,” he says, the tone in his voice changing. “You’re _the_ Doctor Carter, aren’t you? The one who built our Stargate and got the program up and running. You’re the brains of this place, Carter, and Hammond would be crazy to let you go.”

“I didn’t build the Stargate,” she disagrees.

He waves his hand airily. “Stargate, dialing program, same difference. Without you, this place wouldn’t exist, so I don’t think he’s going to fire you.”

Sam doesn’t agree that it’s all because of her the Stargate Program exists, but she’s struggling to think because of the way he’s looking at her. Instead, she looks back down at the simulation she hasn’t been able to work on, and searches desperately for another topic to talk about.

“It would have been nice to study the sarcophagus,” Sam says.

“Would have been nice to have one in the infirmary. Save a lot of time recuperating after a bad mission.”

They drop into that awkward silence again, but this time Sam feels brave enough to peek at him. Instead of watching her like she assumed he would be, he has a yoyo in his hands and is trying to untangle a knot in the string. She’s still completely confused as to his presence in her lab, but too nervous to ask him, because she’s fairly certain it has something to do with the time before when he walked in on her in the locker room.

“What was it like?”

“The Stargate?”

“No. The sarcophagus. How did it feel?”

“It was very light. And warm. And weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah. Kind of like being stoned without the drugs.”

“You’ve been stoned?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

“You know what I don’t get?” he asks suddenly, leaning forward.

“What?” Is that breathless voice really hers?

“How for the last five months that we’ve been working on this base, we’ve not run into each other at all, despite the fact that you’re our resident ‘Gate geek.”

“You don’t like geeks. It’s well known. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the labs before.”

“I visit Daniel’s lab all the time.”

“It’s on a different level.”

His eyes narrow. “Have you been avoiding me?”

“How could I avoid you when I don’t even know you?”

He sits back, considering. “Okay. I just…. I didn’t know if you were okay, and I’ve thought about you a lot.”

To her surprise, her eyes sting, and she looks down at her simulation again, making a pretense of adjusting a wire. She knew this confrontation would happen if he saw her again; he hadn’t seemed like the type of man to let it go if he recognised her. She just hadn’t expected him to be quite so considerate or sweet.

“I’m okay,” she says quietly. “Really, I am okay now. It’s not an issue anymore.”

When she eventually looks up at him, he’s still studying her, and she’s got no way of knowing what he’s thinking. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says finally, offering a small smile. He stands up and stretches, before slipping the yo-yo back in his pocket. “Maybe I just didn’t see you because I was looking out for a blond.” He reaches over to tug on the dark braid lying over her shoulder. “Brunette suits you though.”

Before she can say anything, he’s disappeared out of her lab, and she’s left trying to concentrate in a room that suddenly seems too quiet and too empty.

\---

She’s sprawled across her workbench, the dangerous little glowing pod pushed haphazardly to the side. Jack considers it briefly, and then turns his attention back to the woman sleeping with her head on her arms and the tiniest bit of drool evident on her wrist. If he knew her better, he might consider teasing her about that. Maybe.

He takes a moment to observe Doctor Carter, studying what’s visible of her features for any signs of bruising or injury, but there’s nothing evident. He can’t forget the images he saw before, of the bruising on her arm and the fear in her eyes. It was reassuring this morning, that there was no fear in her eyes, just caution and embarrassment.

A little bit of subtle snooping today didn’t provide him with any useful information; Doctor Samantha Carter is polite, respected and admired by her colleagues, and is known to be brilliant. However, she’s also known to be shy, humble, and reclusive. Her next of kin is listed as her dad, and Daniel – who knows everything about everyone – was only able to supply “I think Catherine recruited her initially. She seems really nice though.”

Jack thinks it’s important that he knows the people under his command, and is annoyed at himself that it’s taken this long for him to meet the famous Doctor Sam Carter, whom, embarrassingly, he had always thought of as a bald man with glasses and a potbelly. With Tobias and Daniel on his team the need to venture into the labs has been easily avoided. Still, as second in command of the SGC, he should really have taken more of an interest in his key players, including the scientists.

And now one of those key players is sleeping on her desk, exhausted from a night running around with a gun and chasing aliens. He has the fleeting thought that he wishes he could have seen her in action.

He’s relieved she’s asleep, because he hasn’t really worked out what he wants to say to her or accomplish by seeing her again today. This way, at least, he has the excuse of making sure she gets home safely.

“Wakey wakey.”

He rests his hand on her shoulder, and she starts, but instead of a little jump she’s flying backwards away from him, falling off her stool in a chaotic rush for escape, scrabbling madly to get away.

“Easy!” he says, crouching down but keeping his hands well clear of her.

It takes her a minute to get her breathing under control and regain her bearings; he sees the utter terror in her eyes fade as she takes in the familiar surroundings of her lab.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, closing her eyes in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I just… I think I’m still wound up after last night.”

He thinks she’s lying about what’s got her worked up, but he’s not going to call her on it. Yet.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, I’m okay.”

He sits back until she starts to unfold herself, and offers her a hand to help her to her feet. She hesitates for a moment, meets his gaze, and then accepts his grip to help her up.

“I must have fallen asleep,” she says, looking at her desk. “What time is it?”

“Home time,” he says. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

“I can drive myself. I’ve been driving for a long time, you know.”

“Sure,” he agrees. “But you’re dead on your feet, and I told Doc Fraiser I’d take you home because she was worried you hadn’t slept today.”

“I don’t need-”

“Ah! Doctor’s orders. Come on.”

In the end, she lets him drive her home, and before he even has his truck out of the parking lot she’s dropped off to sleep again, head resting against the glass of the passenger door. She only wakes up when they come to a stop at the address he pulled from her personnel file; a tidy apartment building in a good part of town.

“Thanks,” she says, opening her door, and then frowns when he undoes his own door.

“Humor me.”

He thinks she might argue with him at first, but she’s tired and just shrugs at him as though she doesn’t care. He follows her silently into the building, up to her second floor apartment where he waits as she unlocks the door.

“Want to go in and make sure there are no monsters?” she asks him, raising an eyebrow and standing back.

He’s tempted, partly because he still feels guilty that he didn’t do something when he first met her, and partly because he’s curious about this woman who’s been a mystery to him for so long. Instead he satisfies himself with a quick glance into her neat, bland, living area through the open door.

“Looks safe enough.”

She raises a tired eyebrow at him. “Thanks for the ride, Colonel O’Neill.”

“It’s Jack.”

“Jack?”

“Yeah. Most people call me Jack.”

She smiles uneasily at him, and shifts her weight from foot to foot. “Well, thank you for the ride.”

“I’ll pick you up in the morning so you can get your car.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get a cab.”

“I’m going by the base to get Teal’c, so it’s easy enough to grab you on the way.”

She wants to refuse, he can tell by the look in her eye, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to offend.

“It’s no hassle, really,” he says, even though his house is on the opposite side of town.

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“I’ll see you at eleven hundred hours. Eleven o’clock.”

She smiles at him. “I know how military time works. I’ll see you then, Colonel. Thank you.”

They say their goodbyes and then he’s on his way home, wondering why there’s a tingle of excitement in his spine at the prospect of tomorrow. It feels almost like a date, he thinks, and then tells himself he’s being stupid and turns up the music.


	2. Chapter 2

## Chapter Two

It’s the perfect summer day. Sam leans back into the lounge chair, enjoying the feel of the hot sun against her skin and the hint of a breeze teasing her hair.

“You’re going to burn,” Janet says as she drops into the empty chair beside Sam.

“Not as much as those burgers are,” Sam says, not bothering to open her eyes. Three beers, a glass of wine and too many snacks later, and she’s stopped trying to analyze how exactly she ended up here, instead of being dropped at the base to pick up her car as originally planned. Here being Colonel O’Neill’s backyard on a lazy Saturday afternoon with the smell of charred meat in the air and the sound of relaxed conversation all around her.

“It’s almost enough to make me become a vegetarian,” Janet agrees. “Here, let me top you off.”

She’s too slow to protest, and the wine glass on the small stand beside her is almost full by the time she opens her eyes.

“Janet,” she protests, “I have to drive home!”

In the end, she doesn’t drive home. Tobias loads Janet into her zippy little sports car that only has room for two, and Sam is left with the remainder of SG-1, most of whom are either asleep or deep in a Jaffa form of meditation. She’s gathering her purse as Colonel O’Neill wanders back into the living room after seeing off Janet and Tobias.

“I’ll call a cab.”

“What for?” he asks. “I have plenty of room. Daniel and Teal’c are staying.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” she says, thinking that all day she’s been trying to fight the sensation that she doesn’t really belong. She can’t understand why he’s insisted she join them when they’re clearly a team and she’s an outsider.

“Come on, Carter,” he says, walking past her to the kitchen. He snags an open bottle of wine and two glasses from the kitchen counter, and heads to the backdoor. “I’ll show you my telescope. And that’s not a euphemism, I do actually mean a real telescope to look at the stars.”

“You have a telescope?”

It turns out he does have a telescope. A _great_ telescope and a viewing deck on his roof which fills her with envy.

“This is great,” she says, settling down next to him. There’s a soft, faded throw that he pulls out of a storage box, and they drape it over their shoulders before he shows her the stars. She pretends not to know what the closest star in the sky is, and which stars are visible above them. When he talks about red dwarf stars and binary systems she sits back and stares up at the visage above them; the stars are cold drops of ice studded in a velvet sky. She listens to the soothing tones of his voice as he points out the spout of the Teapot, and the Butterfly Cluster, and tells her some of the stories behind the constellations mapped out in the sky above them.

She wonders if anyone else at the SGC has seen this side of him, and knows of his genuine love for the sky and the stars and the legends they encompass. He’s not at all what she expected him to be – she’s not entirely sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this man with such expansive knowledge of the skies, and such easy acceptance of her. The man sitting beside her is not at all the man she’s pictured over the last few months.

The wine is almost gone; they’re on their last glasses now, taking their time as though they know when the wine is finished the evening will be over. Sam finds herself reluctant for this moment to end.

“What’s it like going through the Stargate?”

She’s read every report she can lay her hands on, drinking in the descriptions and amazement that seeps through the written word. She’s spoken with Daniel and some of the other civilians who have gone through, even Catherine, but right now she wants to hear it from him. Hear it described by someone who loves the stars as much as she does.

“It’s cold,” he says.

She nudges him with her shoulder, enjoying the warmth of him pressed against her.

“It’s a rush. Intense. I think the fact that we’re flying through space in a wormhole, and stepping onto a planet no one from Earth has been to before… I think that is even more exciting than the Stargate itself.”

“I’d love to go through.” The words slip out before she can censor herself, and she feels her cheeks burn with embarrassment in the cool air. It’s a childish, fairy-tale of a dream she’s been harbouring since they activated the Stargate, but she’s not the type of person they take through the gate on missions.

“Why don’t you?” he asks.

“I’m not really cut out for space travel,” she says finally, when the silence has dragged just a little too long between them.

“Why not?”

So many reasons, she thinks, but mostly that she’s not brave enough. She’s not strong enough. She’s been in bad situations before and couldn’t fix them, so she’d be a handicap to whatever team she accompanied on a mission.

“I wanted to be an astronaut when I was younger,” she confesses, changing direction a little. It’s too difficult to talk to him about her failures and weaknesses.

“Is that why you studied space science?”

“Astrophysics? Yeah.”

The world around them is silent. She feels light and relaxed, her head resting against his shoulder and his body warm against hers under the blanket.

“So why didn’t you become an astronaut?”

“Life happened,” she says. “My Dad is very disappointed in me.”

“I can’t imagine how he could be disappointed in you.”

The words are sincere, and Sam feels the familiar and unwanted burn of tears. He obviously doesn’t know her well enough yet, she thinks, and has forgotten how broken she was the first time he saw her.

“He always wanted me to go to the stars,” she says quietly. “It hurts him that I wasn’t enough to fulfil that dream.”

“' _Enough’_ what?”

“Enough everything.”

The wine is long gone, and things feel heavy and uncomfortable. She’s had too much to drink, and said too many things she didn’t want to say, and now she’s floundering again. She stands up and stretches, the blanket slipping to the empty seat beside him. She turns to climb down the ladder, but he grabs her hand and holds it firmly, tugging until she looks back at him. In the starlight his eyes are shadowed and dark, the features of his face strong and safe. “You’re more than enough, Sam. Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.”

It’s sweet of him, so she offers a small smile in the dark and returns a gentle squeeze to his fingers. She’d love to believe him, but he’s only known her for a day or so, and she’s had her whole life to work out her shortcomings.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m going to turn in now.”

She leaves him sitting up on the observation deck and finds an empty guest room where she lies alone in the bed tossing and turning long after she hears him retire for the night.

\---

Teal’c is waiting for her at her lab on Monday afternoon, drawing confused glances from the other scientists getting ready to head home.

“Hi Teal’c,” she says, giving him a smile.

“Doctor Carter,” Teal’c dips his head in greeting. “Do you still wish for me to instruct you in combat?”

Sam’s cheeks turn a little pink as Jay Felgar splutters into his coffee while walking past.

“Yes,” she says firmly, ignoring Jay. She straightens her shoulders. “I’d love for you to help me when you have time.”

“Then let us go.”

He takes her to a quiet area in the gym, the floor covered in thin mats and walls lined with mirrors. He is big and strong and patient, and slowly moves her through stances and sequences that he makes look fluid and effortless, like a dance instead of a fight. After an hour she’s sweating and aching. It’s embarrassing just how out of condition she is.

After that, she starts running in the mornings before work, and when Teal’c is not on a mission he seeks her out daily for their time together. She finds the exercise soothing and meditative, a space during the day where her mind becomes quiet and she’s focused on her body rather than her thoughts.

It’s two weeks after Teal’c starts training her when she finishes a sequence to find Colonel O’Neill watching them, leaning against the wall in his BDUs and eyes fixed on her. A long forgotten heat rushes through her, and she stumbles, distracted.

“Maintain your focus, Doctor Carter,” Teal’c says calmly, holding his own pose effortlessly.

She tries to ignore the man still standing there, watching, and closes her eyes. She draws a breath, transferring her focus back to her body. She’s still aware of him, conscious of his presence in the same way she’s conscious of the feel of the mat beneath her feet, the sweat at the nape of her neck, and the burn in her thighs as she forces herself to keep as still as Teal’c.

“Shal kek,” Teal’c says eventually, and she relaxes her stance, opening her eyes and trying to keep her breathing under control. “You are doing well, Doctor Carter. We shall continue tomorrow.”

“Tek’ma’te, Teal’c. Thank you,” Sam says, bowing in the way he had taught her. He dips his head in return, acknowledges the Colonel, and walks away.

“Looks like he’s working you hard,” the Colonel comments, not moving from his position lounging against the wall.

She glances at her reflection in the mirrors - red-faced, sweaty, dark hair flying out of the bun she’s tried to contain it in - and then wishes she hadn’t looked. “I think I’m just out of shape,” she says, trying to laugh it off.

“Well, if you’re not too tired, I’ve got something to run by you in the armory.”

“In the armory? What is it?”

“A surprise. Go have a shower, and I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”

\---

It’s not quite twenty minutes later when he hears a now familiar feminine voice talking to one of the Airmen on guard out front. He’s just finished laying out the second MP5 on the bench when she steps into the allocated bay, her expression curious and a little uncertain.

“You ready?” he asks her, beckoning her over to join him.

Fresh from her shower, the light scent of her shampoo mingles with the heavy tones of oil, metal and gunpowder. Jack finds the mix heady and distracting; a scent he’s not sure he’ll ever forget.

“Ready for what?”

“Learning how to use one of these.”

“We’re going to shoot them in here?” she looks doubtful.

He laughs at that, genuine amusement taking him by surprise. “No, you need to know how it works. Anyone can pull a trigger, but there’s more to using a gun than just shooting it. Once you’ve got the hang of this, we’ll head down to the range and work on your aim.”

“Why am I learning how to use one of these?”

“ _These_ are MP5’s, and Fraiser had a point last week when she suggested non-military personnel should be given basic weapons training.”

She stands next to him at the bench, reaching out a cautious hand to touch one of the weapons.

“It won’t hurt you,” he says nudging her shoulder. “You can pick it up.”

They’re quiet as she picks up the gun, testing its weight and studying it with curious eyes. Eventually she looks back up at him, and he’s pleased to see all the caution is absent from her gaze, and instead it’s blue-eyed curiosity and interest, with a touch of excitement. “Show me,” she requests.

He should have known she’d be a quick study. It doesn’t take long for her hands to have the rhythm of the weapon, to understand how it comes apart and goes back together. He watches as her long, slender fingers easily fit and attach and lock things into place until she is assembling the weapon as easily as if she’s been doing it for years.  

“Now what?”

He shows her how to load the empty clip, making her practice until the movements are fluid.

“That’s enough for today,” he says eventually, pleased with how well she’s done. “We’ll go to the range tomorrow.”

She’s looking at him, holding the gun loosely with a relaxed posture, like she was born with a weapon in her hands. It’s kind of hot, seeing quiet and reserved Doctor Carter in her neat slacks and sweater, standing in the armory with a weapon across her waist.

“What’s the rush?” she asks.

“Well, Hammond wants the civilians to have basic weapons training,” he says again.

“Yes, you told me that,” she says as she carefully unloads the empty clip and then places the weapon back in its rack. “I don’t see any other civilians in here, learning how to use a gun. So what’s the rush?” she repeats.

He knew she was smart. Too smart.

“If I can have you comfortable with that weapon by Friday, then Hammond’s given the all clear for you to join SG-1 on P8X-987 to observe the black hole during the eclipse.” He says the words casually, as though it’s no big deal, and there’s a half-second where he’s not sure that she’s heard him or understood what he said.

And then her face lights up in a way he’s never seen before, the smile visible for seconds before suddenly his arms are full of a whole lot of Sam Carter. She’s hugging him tightly, almost bouncing with excitement. He breathes deeply, taking in the scent of her hair and the feel of it against his face, the press of her soft, warm body against his, and he lets himself enjoy the sensation of holding this woman in his arms.

She pulls back abruptly, her cheeks beautifully pink, but her eyes still sparkling with excitement. “Sorry,” she says, her voice strangled as she tries to control it. “I’m sorry. I’m just… the Stargate. Really? Holy Hannah!”

And then she’s hugging him again, laughing into his neck. He finds himself drawn in by her enthusiasm and lifts her slightly off the ground, spinning her around while she laughs.

“Oh, Jack,” she says, pulling her head back enough to look at him with those wide, excited blue eyes, hands still resting on his shoulders, staying in the circle of his arms. “Thank you,” she says earnestly. “Thank you _so much_ for organizing this. It’s…. Wow. Wow.”

It’s the first time she’s called him by his name, and he smiles at her, lifting a hand to brush a stray strand of dark hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “You’re welcome,” he says gently, his fingers hovering against her cheek, his eyes locked on hers.

For a moment the air between them is thick and heavy with something exciting, and all he is aware of is the warmth of her in his arms, the fullness of her lips, and the nearness of her. Then something shifts and the openness in her eyes shutters closed before she’s backing away from him, gently untangling herself from his arms.

“I… Thank you,” she says again, her hands twisting together in front of her. “Oh, can I tell Janet?”

He nods, granting her the escape she’s so desperately seeking, and she disappears out of the armory, leaving him alone with that now achingly familiar scent of flowers and gunmetal, and the sensation that he missed something important.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to Nellie for the beta, and to Sarah_M for late night discussions and debates, and listening to endless whining and annoyances about this fic and life in general. 
> 
> Thank you also for the lovely feedback, and patience waiting for this chapter!

The corridors of the SGC are quiet this late at night, but not deserted. Sam’s not sure what prompts her to go past Daniel’s lab, but the door is open and lights are on. She peers in and sees him sitting at his desk, sorting some equipment in front of him.

“Hey,” she says from the doorway, hesitant to disturb him but suddenly desperate for company.

“Sam.” He smiles up at her. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I could ask you the same question,” she points out, taking his greeting as an invitation.

“Oh, I’m always up too late,” he says casually as he reaches over for a worn pack and opens it.

She watches as he rifles through the pack. When he’s done, he adds a soft leather pouch of brushes, then a worn journal and a small packet of Kleenex.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks as he zips a camcorder into a side pocket.

She shrugs, not wanting to admit that as excited as she is, she’s also terrified. The closer the clock gets to departure time, the more tightly she’s feeling wound.

“I was so excited and so nervous about the first mission to Abydos that I didn’t sleep at all the night before,” Daniel says when she doesn’t answer. “I was terrified I’d make a mistake, or not be able to get us home.”

“What about the danger of the unknown?” Sam asks, fascinated by his confession.

“Oh, that was a concern too, but we really had no idea what we were heading into. The unknown can be a lot less terrifying than the known.”

His words carry an element of truth, but Sam is still petrified of the unknown.

Maybe it’s the lateness of the hour, or maybe it’s because it’s Daniel who has shown her only kindness and support, but she finds herself confiding in him.

“I’m worried that I…”

“That you what?” he asks, voice gentle.

“I’m a scientist. I’m not a soldier, and I’m not brave,” Sam confesses.

“And you’re worried about how you’re going to react,” he interprets.

She nods silently, shame at her fears and inadequacies so familiar she hardly notices the weight of the emotions.

“Well,” he says, considering. “It’s hard to know what you’re capable of, until you’re put in a situation where you are forced to find out.”

She has many, many memories of situations reminding her of her weakness and inability to fight back.

“You did great a few weeks ago,” he says, unaware of her dark thoughts. “Jack and General Hammond wouldn’t let you go off-world if they didn’t feel it was a good idea,” he adds. “Being military has nothing to do with it. Lots of civilians go off world.”

“I just… I guess I don’t really understand why suddenly I’m going on a mission,” Sam confesses to him. “I’m not really serving any purpose. I’m just going as an observer, someone to be babysat.”

“Maybe this is a way of seeing how you handle it,” Daniel says simply. “You’re the expert on the Stargate, and your ability to understand some of the alien technology we’ve found so far is exceptional. Maybe this is a way of seeing if in the future you could go on more missions and put those skills to good use.”

She hadn’t considered the mission from that angle.

“So you don’t think… you don’t think this a waste of time, and just Jack being nice?” she asks.

“Sam, Jack wouldn’t do that,” he says simply. “If Jack thinks you should go on this mission, then strategically, he’d have very good reasons. Particularly if General Hammond signed off on it.”

“You’re right,” she says, feeling like an idiot.

Daniel reaches over and grabs her hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s going to be fine, Sam,” Daniel says. “You’re going to love it.”

She smiles at him. When he puts his pack away and ushers her out of his lab, she finds she’s ready to go to bed, settled after the quiet conversation.

When she gets back into the small bed in the cramped base quarters, her toes curl with excitement and she lets herself smile in the dark.

Tomorrow, she’s going through the Stargate.

\---

She can’t keep the grin off her face, even if she does feel a bit let down that the planet she’s currently standing on could very easily be mistaken for Earth; it doesn’t look at all alien.

“So how was travelling by wormhole?” Jack asks, curving the rim of his baseball cap and scrutinising it carefully before fitting it back on his head.

“Amazing,” she says, still smiling. “It was incredible. I’ve read so many reports and spoken to so many people, but it’s almost impossible to describe it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s incredible,” he says, and she feels that jolt somewhere inside again at the sight of him smiling at her, dressed in his combat gear with his gun across his hips and standing there as though he isn’t afraid of anything.

“I’m surprised someone from SG-7 isn’t here to meet us,” Tobias comments, looking around.

“Let’s go find them,” Jack says, waving at Tobias to take the lead. He falls into step beside Sam, and they walk in silence for a short way.

Sam’s trying to look at everything at once, drinking in the golden fields and greenery around them, the soft blue sky, sunshine, and visage of a small town in the distance. It’s familiar and different all at once.

“It’s hard to believe we’re on a different planet,” she comments. “It looks so much like Earth.”

“That’s likely because—” Daniel starts to explain, but Sam never gets to hear what his theory is because Tobias lets out a warning call, and Sam catches sight of a still figure lying by the side of the road.

It’s not how she thought the mission would go. Meeting an alien people and watching the singularity had seemed pretty exciting, but instead here they are exposed to a horrific, fast acting plague that has them donning biohazard suits and finding a story of death everywhere they go.

\---

She’s sitting on a small bunk in the barracks, with her knees tucked up under her chin, trying to wipe the images of the dead soldiers and villagers from her mind.

“This complex is fully decontaminated, Colonel, and so far everyone on your team seems clear of whatever this disease is,” Janet announces as she re-enters the general common room where SG-1 and Sam have gathered.

“I don’t understand why they didn’t send any warning that this was happening,” Daniel says.

“I think it happened so quickly, they didn’t get a chance,” Tobias says. “People look like they dropped in the middle of what they were doing.”

Sam tries not to wince at the words, but Janet must see her discomfort.

“How are you doing, Sam?” Janet asks quietly.

“Okay,” Sam lies, pressing her forehead against her knees. “I’m just… I wasn’t expecting this.”

“We should do a thorough search for survivors or information about exactly what took place here. If Doctor Carter is cleared, Doc, can we spare one of your people to escort her back to the gate?”

“I’d like to stay, please.”

“You would?”

She swallows roughly, her mouth feeling dry. “I have a minor in biochemistry and biotechnology. I could help work out what happened here.”

Jack considers her, questioning her silently with his eyes. She looks back resolutely, relieved and terrified all at once when he nods briefly.

“Colonel,” Tobias says, hesitant but determined. “Are you sure that is a good idea?”

Tobias’ words summon an awkward sort of tension, as though all the occupants in the room become still and focus on the lieutenant and her superior officer.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Lieutenant.”

“Well, Doctor Carter is a civilian, sir, and the scope of the mission has changed dramatically. Are you sure it’s safe for a civilian to stay? What if things escalate?”

“Um, I’m a civilian,” Daniel points out, butting into the conversation.

“Yes, but you’re a member of our team, Daniel. You’re used to these situations. Doctor Carter isn’t. We don’t know anything about what’s happened here.”

“That’s fair,” Jack agrees with a sigh.

Something in Sam rebels at the idea of being packed up and sent home to be kept safe while the rest of these people are out here in the unknown.

“Please, Jack, I can help. I want to help.”

She’s putting him in a difficult position, she can see that, but she’s desperate to stay now that she’s here. For a moment she thinks he will refuse her, indecision warring in his eyes, but then he sighs, and she knows she’s won.

“Gear up,” he orders his team. He puts a hand on Sam’s arm to stop her following SG-1 to the airlock where the HAZMAT suits are. His voice is low, earnest when he speaks. “None of us will think any less of you if you went back home now; this was not a part of the mission, and it’s not something we expect you to do.”

Except Sam would think less of herself. It would just be one more cowardly moment to add to the list, and she’s determined to change. To be brave. “No,” she says with a quiet conviction. “I can help here. I could be useful. I accept the risk, Jack. Please, let me help.”

He’s quiet as he considers her words, and she wonders what he is thinking as he looks at her, face expressionless. In the end, he dips his head again in confirmation. “Okay, you’re with me. But if the situation changes, and I need you to get back to Earth, we’re not arguing about it.”

“Thank you,” she says simply.

“Let’s go.”

\---

In the end Sam returns to Earth before the singularity occurs, when the young girl who later identifies herself as Cassandra seems to bond with her in a way she hasn’t with anyone else. Sam is a little confused, and at the same time quite flattered by the desperation with which Cassandra clings to her. She hasn’t had a lot to do with children, and is usually awkward around them, but Cassandra doesn’t seem to need her to do anything other than just _be there_.

The more time she spends with Cassandra over the next two days—holding her, talking with her, drawing with her—the more she feels something inside her start to blossom. She’s never had someone need her in this way before, or depend on her quite so much. The feeling is awe-inspiring and terrifying, because she’s horribly afraid of not being able to live up to Cassandra’s expectations.

By the time they realise Cassandra is on borrowed time, Sam is head over heels in love with her and shattering on the inside at the thought of losing her.

It’s why she refuses to let go of Cassandra on the bumpy, desperate drive to the abandoned nuclear facility, clutching the unconscious girl close and savoring the clean scent of her hair. It’s why when Jack tries to take Cassandra, she refuses to let him, and insists on taking Cassandra herself while he accompanies them on the long, clanking ride down the shaft in the little cart that creaks and rocks.

And it’s why when Cassandra wakes up, Sam is unable to speak. She hugs her close and buries her head in the long red tresses, not looking at Jack when she tells him she won’t leave Cassandra. He tries ordering her, but she ignores him, holding onto Cassandra who is wriggling and pulling away from Sam, asking where they are and what’s wrong.

Sam hears the large metal door clang shut, locking herself and Cassandra in the small room. With the quiet around them, a sense of peace settles over her, and she holds Cassandra, telling her it’s going to be okay.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” She’s surprised to see Jack beside them, lowering himself to the ground—she thought he had left. She shouldn’t be surprised, she thinks; his sense of duty wouldn’t allow him to let her do this on her own.

“What are you still doing here?” Sam asks, finally finding her voice.

“What are _you_ still doing here?” he returns evenly, meeting her gaze as his shoulder presses against hers.

“I can’t leave her,” Sam whispers.

“Why are you crying, Sam?” Cassandra asks.

“Am I?”

She didn’t realise she was crying until Cassandra pointed it out, but now she can feel the heat of the tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. She’s crying for the life Cassandra lost, and the new life she won’t get to live. She’s crying for herself and the dreams she never got to chase. And she’s crying for Jack, because duty wouldn’t let him leave her behind; she’s essentially sentenced him to death.

“It’s okay,” Jack says gruffly, maybe reading her mind. “C’mere.”

He slips an arm around her shoulders, and she leans against him as best she can with Cassandra still cuddled up against her, breathing in the scent of him that’s been teasing her for days. She wonders if maybe things were different she might find some courage and not run away each time he creeps a little closer.

“How long?” she whispers.

“Not long.”

She sighs against him, hugging Cassandra close and closing her eyes, waiting for the end.

His fingers are in her hair now, rubbing the back of her neck and scalp, and it feels as though her nerve endings on are on fire with his touch, and he drops his cheek against her hair. They sit like that for long moments, until her neck starts to complain and she shifts against him.

“Jack?” Surely by now it should have happened already?

He checks his wrist watch awkwardly around her. “Almost three minutes ago,” he says, brow furrowed with confusion. “You and Fraiser definitely got the timing right?”

“Yes.” Sam may not be sure about a lot of things in her life, but her math is one thing she’s never doubted.

“Then…?”

“I don’t know. According to Janet, she should never have regained consciousness.”

“I’ll call the surface and let them know our status. We’ll wait another ten minutes to be sure.”

Sam doesn’t want to hope, in case they’re wrong, but maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

\---

The small room Janet’s staff have set up for Cassandra is tucked away from the main hustle of the surrounding wards. Muted pink and yellow linen, and a smattering of soft toys don’t do much to lessen the blandness of the room, but Sam appreciates that someone (she suspects Janet) went to the effort to try and make this lost little girl feel more comfortable—the Air Force Academy Hospital is not really set up to look after children.

Cassandra is tangled in her bedding, fast asleep. Sam runs a gentle hand over her hair and pushes a stray lock behind her ear. Watching the child sleep, Sam feels an ache for something she didn’t know she was missing. The sense of purpose she’d felt when holding Cassandra in her arms earlier today had been overwhelming, along with the utter terror at the thought of something happening to her.

She’s trying to sort through her emotions, to work out how she can be feeling so much and yet not know what she is feeling, purely because of this child.

“Sam?” Janet whispers from the door, beckoning to her.

She looks at Cassandra one more time before getting to her feet and following Janet out of the room.

“How’re you doing?” Janet asks.

“Okay,” Sam says. “Cassandra’s sleeping now, she’s not so restless anymore.”

“Good,” Janet says. “Want to take a walk?”

Sam hesitates, glancing back at the room where Cassandra is sleeping.

“She’s not going to wake up for a long time, Sam, the sedative we gave her will let her have a good night's sleep, which is what she needs tonight. The nursing staff will keep an eye on her.”

Sam’s not thrilled at the idea, but nods her head, accepting that Janet means to have this conversation with her.

“Come on,” Janet says, hooking her hand around Sam’s elbow and guiding her down the hallway. “I’ve officially finished for the night, so we can go get some fresh air.”

As with all Air Force installations, the grounds of the hospital are immaculately kept, with picnic tables and benches strategically scattered for recovering patients and their families to enjoy the sunshine.

“I wanted to talk to you about Cassandra,” Janet says as they meander along a footpath in the twilight.

“Is this about what’s going to happen to her?”

“Yes. It’s going to be difficult to find a home for her through usual adoption and fostering avenues, given the problems with security clearance and nature of the program.”

Sam sits down on a bench, and Janet joins her. “What are the options for her then?”

It feels so callous to discuss Cassandra’s future this way, without asking her what she wants.

“Ideally, someone from the SGC would take her so they can have full disclosure.”

“So who have they chosen?”

“No one definite yet,” Janet says.

“But?”

Janet sighs, and turns away from Sam, looking across the shadowy grounds stretching before them. “General Hammond approached me,” she says eventually.

Betrayal is a sharp, burning ache in the center of her chest. “You?”

“I’m not on a front line team, and my work hours are fairly consistent.”

There’s a tightness around Sam’s throat, a difficulty to breathe and speak.

“Sam?”

“What about me?” she asks, ashamed to hear her voice breaking.

Janet lays a gentle, cautious hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Because of the level of classification of the program and risk to national security, they want to keep her with someone in the Air Force.”

“So I wouldn’t have had a chance anyway?”

“Sam, if this is something you really want, we can approach General Hammond to have this discussion. I wanted to talk to you first, because I know how much you care about Cassandra, but I wasn’t sure if this was something you actually wanted.”

The instinct is to affirm to Janet that this is definitely something she wants. How could she not want Cassandra? That sense of purpose she got with Cassandra, and the sensation of completeness, how could she not want that?

But, Sam thinks as she sits back, it really isn’t about what _she_ wants. It’s about what is best for Cassandra.

“I didn’t know you wanted children,” Sam says eventually.

To her surprise, Janet gives her a half-smile, almost hidden in the dim light around them. “I always wanted children. A whole houseful of children.”

“Then why…?”

Janet’s voice is more vulnerable than Sam’s ever heard it before. “I can’t have children, Sam. Not physically. So this… this is a surprising, and unexpected, but a very much wanted opportunity for me. I really want this, Sam.”

Sam really, really likes Cassandra, and there is a selfish part of her that loves the way Cassandra makes her feel. The adoration in her eyes, the need to be close to Sam - it fulfills her and gives her a sense of purpose and validation in a way that nothing else has for a long, long time. But it’s not about Sam’s sense of validation and selfish desire for adoration, it’s about a little girl needing a parent, and a parent who doesn’t have a child.

If she’s honest with herself, Sam doesn’t think she’s ready to be, or cut out to be, a parent. She hasn’t even found herself yet, in the mess that is her life, so how could she possibly drag a little girl into her chaos and uncertainty?

“I think you’d be perfect for Cassandra,” Sam says, hoping she sounds positive and happy for her friend.

“Are you sure, Sam?”

Sam nods, because it’s too difficult to speak.

Janet touches her hand with her own. “I mean it, Sam, if you want this, I won’t force it, or fight you because I know that Cassandra’s attached to you. I don’t want to cause her any more distress or emotional upheaval than we need too.”

“I’m not ready for children,” Sam says, trying to smile at Janet.

“No one’s ever ready for children,” Janet says sagely.

“Maybe,” Sam concedes. “But I’m not in a good place personally to have a child right now. I need to work out exactly who I am first, and find my own feet.”

“You’re going to be fine, Sam,” Janet says encouragingly, squeezing her hand. “Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

Sam shoots a glance at Janet, and finds understanding and empathy in her eyes, and not an ounce of pity or judgement.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been close to where you were,” Janet confesses. “An abusive relationship in any form takes it toll, and you’re doing all the right things to recover from it and move forward.”

Sam’s insides feel like ice at Janet’s words. “Who told you?”

“No one,” Janet says. “I did your pre-mission physical, Sam. You have significant injuries and trauma in your records which are not difficult to interpret.”

She doesn’t like that Janet knows. That anyone knows about her weakness and failure and poor judgement.

“My ex-husband tried to get physical with me after years of mental and verbal abuse,” Janet says when the silence between them grows. “I let him hit me twice. The third time he hit me I broke his jaw, and we got a divorce.”

“You left him before he hurt you too badly,” Sam points out, as though Janet’s story is different from hers.

“And you left before he killed you,” Janet returns gently.

“Not soon enough though,” Sam says.

“Oh Sam,” Janet sighs. “If it was easy to leave, domestic violence wouldn’t be what it is. You got out. You’re here, alive, and learning how to defend yourself. You’re going to look in the mirror one day and realise you can stop searching because you’ve already found yourself, and then you’ll be able to forgive yourself for something that _wasn’t your fault_.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault that he did what he did. It was my fault for not leaving sooner, even when I knew things were bad. It was my fault for believing I could be enough to change him. To save him.”

“Did you?”

“No. Nowhere close. He died a few months ago. Went completely crazy before died, and other people died as a result. I blame myself for not pressing charges, because I think I knew he had that possibility inside him, but I was so scared.”

“And you were worried that people wouldn’t believe you.”

“Yes, but-”

“Sam, you can’t blame yourself. You were the victim of abuse, and none of his actions are your fault. Your job was to get out and get safe, and you did that.”

She’s quiet for a long time, thinking about Janet’s words. “I just feel so lost, Janet. I constantly doubt myself and my decisions about everything because I’ve obviously made some very bad choices in the past. Sometimes I think I’m doing okay and then something innocuous happens and I panic. I had all these dreams when I was younger, and now I have no idea where I’m heading with my career _or_ my life because I just sort of fell into the Stargate assignment by accident, and I’m still a bit confused about why they keep me around sometimes.”

She’s never confessed so many of her fears and doubts to anyone before, and they hang in the air between them, solid and real and heavy.

“Why do you worry about your position at the SGC?” Janet asks.

“I was working for the Pentagon originally, in a private research capacity,” Sam explains. “I was consulting for Catherine Langford, and she offered me a position when she heard my fiance was being transferred here.”

“Was he military?”

“Air Force,” Sam admits.

“You think it was a coincidence, Sam?”

“What do you mean?”

“That you just happened to be offered the position at the SGC because your fiance was transferred to Colorado Springs?”

Sam shrugs. “It was always about Jonas and his transfers. I just followed where he was sent, and he was sent to do something at the Academy here initially. I got lucky and offered a job with the Stargate program when we moved here. Then Jonas was given orders to transfer to Florida a while after the Stargate program was shut down, but Catherine wanted me to stay and continue working with her. That’s when things really got bad.”

Janet’s quiet for a while. “You’re invaluable to the program, Sam. You should know that. Look at how you went right out of your comfort zone a few weeks ago when there was a threat we needed to deal with. And now you’re training with Teal’c and going on missions. I know you don’t see it at the moment, but things are going to get better for you. They already are.”

Sam shrugs, still reluctant to believe the words despite knowing they make sense.

“Have you seen a counselor, Sam?”

“I tried for a while, but it wasn’t really helping.”

“Well, you can talk to me whenever you want,” Janet offers, surprising Sam by wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle half hug. “But I also think we should you find you a counselor that works for you. They’re worth their weight in gold – they helped me recover a lot faster than if I’d tried to do it on my own.”

“Thanks, Janet. For listening.”

“That’s what friends are for, Sam,” Janet smiles as they pull themselves back to their feet.

They’re almost back at the hospital entrance when Sam says, “I think you’ll be an amazing mother. Cassie is lucky to have you.”

The strength of Janet’s arms and fingers digging into her back as she pulls Sam in for a hug speak volumes about the depth of yearning and desperation she feels about adopting Cassandra. “Thank you, Sam,” she whispers, still holding tight. “Thank you.”

\---

He’s waiting for her in the hall outside Cassandra’s room, positioned so that he can just make out the shadow in the bed where Cassandra lies sleeping. When Doctor Fraiser and Sam return from their walk, Sam looks exhausted.

“Colonel,” Doctor Fraiser says, offering him a smile. “What can we do for you, sir?”

“Nothing,” he says, smiling at her. “Daniel noticed Sam’s car was still at the SGC when we left, so we figured she must need a ride to dinner.”

“Dinner?” Sam asks, confused.

“We usually go out for a beer or a meal after a mission,” Jack says easily.

Sam frowns at him. “But we got back a few days ago.”

“Mission only really finished today,” he says. “Well, satisfactorily resolved anyway.”

“Oh,” Sam says. “I’m not a part of your team though.”

Yes, he remembers those words that Tobias threw around on Hanka. “You were for this mission,” he says. “The others are expecting you.”

She looks half-convinced.

“Doctor Fraiser, you should join us too. You were pretty heavily involved in this one.”

“Thank you, Colonel, I’d love too, but I’m going to stay here tonight. You should go, Sam. Go have some fun, with some good people.”

He’s curious about the look that Fraiser and Sam exchange, a hidden depth of communication he’s not privy to. Sam seems to understand whatever Fraiser is saying, and nods at her before looking back at Jack.

“If you’re sure everyone wants me there,” she says.

“I’m sure,” Jack says.

“Okay. I’ll just get my purse.”

She slips into Cassie’s room quietly, a shadow in the dim room. He feels like a voyeur watching as she hesitates beside Cassie’s bed, and then leans down to press a kiss against her head before they say quiet goodbyes to Fraiser and head to his truck.

On the walk to the car, she’s tense and quiet, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” he asks when they’re on their way, and the silence has continued on for too long.

Her fingers trace invisible patterns on the purse resting on her lap. “Janet’s going to adopt Cassie,” she says.

“I know,” he says. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.”

He stays silent, focusing on the road.

“Okay, no, I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

He flicks on the indicator, makes a show of checking the oncoming traffic before turning across the intersection. He winds his window down, spilling fresh air into the cab.

“Janet’s going to be a great mother,” Sam continues after taking a deep breath. “She’s so desperate to have a child that she would do anything for Cassie already.”

He hears the unvoiced belief in Sam’s words making it clear she sees herself as a poor second in Janet’s place. He wonders what exactly had happened to this woman, and who was responsible for filling her with so much self-doubt.

“What about you?” he asks finally.

“What about me?”

“Why wouldn’t you be a great mother?”

She stiffens, the insult and personal nature of the question setting her on edge, before she relaxes back into the seat and sighs. “I’m not ready,” she says finally. “I know that I’m nowhere near ready to be a parent.”

“No one is ever ready to be a parent,” Jack says gruffly, stamping on his own inadequacies and memories.

He can almost hear the wheels churning in her head, the way the direction of her thought swings around to focus on his own failure of parenthood, feels the inevitable conversation coming at him like a tidal wave.

“You had a son,” she says quietly.

The pain is as sharp and deep and fresh as always. “Yes, I did.”

“I’m sorry you lost him,” she says sincerely, a warm hand brushing against his. He catches her fingers with his, and she squeezes his hand gently. He hangs on desperately, letting the cool air  of the evening splinter in his lungs and trying to breathe out the yawning ache that is threatening to engulf him.

When he can focus again, the lights of O’Malley’s are visible ahead of them and their fingers are still tangled together. “I miss him,” he finds himself saying, fingers clenching against hers.

By the time he stops the car in the lot he’s had to let go of her fingers, but the pressure in his chest has eased and he feels like he can swallow again.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Starving,” she says with a smile, touching the back of his hand on the gear shift briefly.

As they walk across the parking lot towards the entrance, he tries not to notice how cool the air is against his skin where moments ago her fingers had rested, soft and warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have received a couple of questions about Sam's past in this story, and I promise it will be unravelled and revealed over time.
> 
> I also just wanted to clarify that I'm aware in the USA there are different laws in each state regarding Domestics/Family violence, and I tried hard to research what the laws were in 1996, and I'm aware that mandatory reporting may have been introduced at this time. However, for the purposes of this story I've chosen that in my timeline, mandatory reporting was not yet introduced in the state that Sam was living in at the time.
> 
> If you, or anyone you know, have experienced domestic or family violence, please know that there is help available where ever you are located xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter has taken so long, in between moving house, children's birthdays, the holiday season and a very busy period at work, I'm afraid it wasn't at the top of my priority list. That said, work will settle down in the next few weeks, and hopefully we can get things moving at a better pace again :)

##  Chapter Four

Once a week, Jack steals her from Teal’c and takes her to the shooting range. Sam’s discovered she has a good eye and enjoys the satisfaction of hitting the target. She finds herself looking forward to their time on the range. She tells herself it has nothing to do with the fact that Jack spends most of the session pressed up against her back, arms around her, cheek against cheek. When his hands rest on her hips to correct a stance, and fingertips flirt with the sensitive skin above the waistband of her pants, she puts the erratic thumping of her heart down to the exhilaration of learning to defend herself, the power of holding the weapon in her hands and knowing how to use it.

Sometimes she forgets herself and finds herself leaning back against him, turning her face towards his neck and breathing in the male scent of him. Then she remembers that she’s not ready for this sort of closeness yet, so she pulls away before she gets too comfortable. He never chases her when she retreats, and part of her is frustrated and confused that things keep hovering on the precipice of  _ something _ . Mostly, she is thankful, because she’s not sure she can do anything except run at the moment, and she doesn’t want to run from him.

They’re due to go to the range on Friday afternoon, after SG-1 gets back from their mission. Sam’s in the gym, practicing the sequences Teal’c taught her, when the alert sounds for an unauthorised gate activation. SG-1 has only just left, she thinks, so it’s unlikely to be them returning. Before, she didn’t pay attention to these alarms, because she didn’t know the teams going through the gate. Now with Teal’c and Jack spending time with her, and Daniel wandering into her lab late at night for shared coffee and conversation, she suddenly has a vested interest in them coming home.

She tries to breathe out the anxiety that bubbled to life with the alarm, focusing on transferring her weight onto one foot while she balances, but her concentration is shattered. She wishes for an opponent to work off some of her frustration with one of the training staffs Teal’c has introduced her to.

Five minutes later she’s urgently paged over the speakers.

Tobias and Jack are missing, possibly injured or worse, and Daniel is unconscious in the infirmary. It’s her job to get the gate back online, and she’s determined to do it faster than the twenty four hours Siler has predicted. She’s not prepared to leave Jack out there any longer than he needs to be.

\---

In the background he can hear Tobias swearing and muttering, the sound of her attempts to fix the DHD with limited equipment and knowledge reverberating around the emptiness of their cavern.

Jack’s not doing too great. He’s been in bad situations before, so he feels that he may have some idea about how things are going. And right now, stuck in an icy cavern with a broken leg and broken insides, he’s pretty sure he’s not going to survive this adventure.

Lying on his back on the ice, trying to ignore the cold and wet and pain, he spends a lot of time hovering on the edges of memories and ideas. He thinks about Charlie and how he hopes that he’ll get to see him again. Jack doesn’t believe in an afterlife or heaven, but if it means seeing Charlie again, he’ll believe in anything. He thinks about Sara, and wonders how news of his death (or disappearance) will affect her. Whether if it  _ will  _ affect her. She’s a good woman, and she deserves more than what he gave her.

He wonders about Teal’c and Daniel, and hopes they made it home. He feels guilt and sorrow for Tobias, young and bright and at the start of her life and career, only to have it cut short by a malfunction. He thinks about Sam, and the way he won’t get to flirt with her at the range anymore.

Beneath him, the ground rumbles again as Tobias attempts to dial the gate, but there is no familiar whoosh of a wormhole forming, or blue glow of an event horizon once it’s stabilized.

“Sir, I can’t get it to work. I’ve tried resetting it twice, but it’s just not functioning,” Tobias says. Her voice is hoarse from cold and thirst, distant and faint. He thinks maybe he’s starting to slip away because it’s harder to stay focused on reality than the memories and dreams he’s slipping into.

“Take the gear and go,” he orders. “Find help. Survive.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, and then pauses. “Sir, it’s been an honor.”

He likes that she is realistic, but is a little disappointed she’s giving up on him so easily, even if it is the most sensible course of action. “You too, Lieutenant. Now go, save yourself.”

He sees her snapping off a salute, and closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch her leave. He listens to the sound of her climbing up and away, until it’s hard to tell apart the creaks and groans of the ice around him from the faint echoes of her escape.

Jack closes his eyes and hopes it won’t take too long.

\---

She’s terrified it’s taken too long. Fifteen hours to fix the gate, a day and half of SG personnel fruitlessly searching planets, and then an unusual gate activity fills them with hope and a new search direction. It’s almost sixteen hours later when they recieve word that Jack and Tobias have been located alive, but there is no further information on their condition other than ‘critical’ and ‘exposure’ and ‘internal injuries’.

It’s over a week later when Jack and Tobias are finally transferred back to the Academy Hospital, and hours before Sam, Teal’c and Daniel are allowed to visit.

He looks terrible, she thinks when she finally sees him. In need of a shave, pale, and very still against the white of the hospital pillows. She pauses on the threshold of the door, suddenly shy and awkward now that she’s here, feeling silly after the desperation and worry and fear over the last two weeks. Who is this man to her, that she’s been so worried and desperate for his return? And who is she to him, that she feels she can be there with Daniel and Teal’c to see him first, make sure he is really alive and in one piece?

“Come on,” Daniel says, grabbing her hand and dragging her forward.

Jack opens his eyes as they pile into the room. “Hey,” he says, offering them a dopey looking smile.

“It is good to see you again, O’Neill,” Teal’c says with what Sam’s starting to recognise as a smile in his voice.

“What took you so long?” Daniel asks, dropping into the chair beside Jack’s bed.

“Tobias wanted to go sightseeing,” Jack replies, trying to shift on the bed and wincing. “I’ve discovered I’m not as fond of ice as I used to be.”

“Hit hard, huh?” Daniel says sympathetically.

“I’m going to be in plaster for at least six weeks.”

“Yeah, Hammond took us off the mission roster. How is Claire? We haven’t seen her yet.”

“Fraiser discharged her already; other than a sprained ankle she’s fine.”

“We’ll call in on our way back to base and check in on her.”

“Mmm, good idea,” Jack says as his eyes close again.

“You okay, Jack?”

“Yeah,” he says, opening his eyes. “The pain meds are pretty strong.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Something to eat,” Jack says immediately. “The crap they’ve been giving me… it’s worse than MREs.”

“We’ll go find you something,” Daniel says, standing up. “Come on, Teal’c, you can help me carry.”

It’s not the most subtle exit Sam’s ever witnessed. Some of the nervousness and uncertainty she felt earlier is creeping back now that Daniel and Teal’c have left and she’s standing alone in the room with Jack.

He’s looking at her the way a starving man might look at a bowl of ice cream, and she stares at her feet, not really sure where to look.

“I hear I have you and Daniel to thank for finding us,” he says, breaking the silence.

“We wouldn’t have, if Tobias hadn’t thought to reset the DHD.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” he says gruffly, reaching out an arm to pat the chair next to him. “I’m glad I had you and Daniel at home to figure it all out.”

“Are you really okay?” she asks, eyes lingering on the foot of the bed where the chunky cast is poking out from under the covers. She knows he had surgery on his leg and his abdomen, but the only evidence of his injuries she can see is that bright white block of plaster.

“I am now,” he says gently, and relief breaks through her with the force of a small explosion. She moves to the chair beside him and sits down.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispers, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. His fingers are warm between her hands, his pulse strong under her finger tips. “I was so worried.”

He grips her hand, a gentle squeeze. “I was worried too,” he admits. “Sam-”

“Jack?”

There’s a tall, blond woman in the doorway, watching them curiously.

“Sara!” Jack pulls his hand out of Sam’s and sits a bit straighter in the bed.

“Am I interrupting?” the woman - Sara - asks, looking between Sam and Jack.

“No, not at all,” Jack says. “We were just…”

“Talking,” Sam says quickly, standing up. “And I was just getting ready to go.”

“Please, don’t leave on my account,” Sara says, still standing just inside the doorway.

“No, really, I need to get home and-”

“They only had sandwiches or a salad, Jack, so we got you both. And apple pie, but Teal’c claimed the ice cream- Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” Sara says, shifting awkwardly on her feet.

“It’s Sara, isn’t it?” Daniel questions, looking between Jack and the woman. “I met you once before, a little while ago, when…”

“Yes, I remember,” Sara says, her voice quiet. “Dr Jackson, right?”

Daniel smiles at her. “Yes. How are you?”

“I’m okay, thanks. How are you?”

“I’m good too. You remember Teal’c, don’t you? And this is Sam. Doctor Samantha Carter.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sara says. “I can come back later if this is a bad time,” she adds, looking over at Jack.

“It’s fine, Sara,” Jack says. “It’s just a surprise to see you here.”

“I was told when you arrived earlier today,” Sara explains, “but I wanted to see for myself that you’re okay.”

“Why were you told?” Jack asks, confused.

“I was informed when you were listed missing in action, Jack. And then General Hammond called to let me know that you’d been found. I knew you were injured, but I didn’t have any more information than that.”

“I was listed as MIA? I wasn’t gone that long.”

“I argued with General Hammond that it was too early,” Daniel says to Jack, “but he said it was protocol.”

“And protocol dictates that your next of kin is notified,” Sara says quietly, evidently well versed with the Air Force protocols. “I’m surprised I was still listed, Jack.”

Jack shifts awkwardly on the bed. “Yeah, well, I can change that if you want.”

There’s a bittersweet ache in Sam’s belly as she watches the woman approaching Jack’s bedside, sitting on the sheets next to him and gently taking his hand in hers. “It’s fine, Jack. I just… it was just a shock hearing you were missing and then injured. I just…. I just needed to know you were okay.”

“I am okay,” Jack says quietly, intently, so focused on Sara that it’s almost uncomfortably intimate watching their reunion.

Sam slips quietly from the room, the air suffocating and heavy around her shoulders. Outside the sky is blue and the leaves are turning auburn and gold as autumn takes hold.

She knows Jack was married in a previous life, has seen photos of his wife and son displayed in his home. She’s never really considered he may still be in touch with his wife, or that she may not even be an  _ ex _ -wife. And besides, other than some flirting, there is nothing other than a new friendship between her and Jack. A friendship still in its infancy, really. Wasn’t she telling herself, just days ago, that she wasn’t looking for another relationship?

So there is no reason to feel this burning ache inside at the thought of Jack with another woman, even if she was his wife.

\---

He’s seen Sara a couple of times since the entity that impersonated first himself, and then Charlie. The first time, he’d called and arranged to meet her at a bar for a drink. Sara was still shaken up by the whole event, and the conversation between them was stilted and awkward. The second time was an unintentional meeting at the local nursery. An easy exchange about the right type of garden mulch (Jack still has no idea about garden mulch) led to a long conversation at the small cafe tucked to the side of the nursery while they drank coffee and shared some pie. Their conversation was careful and veiled, but it was the first time that Sara had even an inkling of what his work entailed, and despite the constraints of their surroundings, it was one of the most open and relaxed conversations they’d had in years.

And now, with Sara suddenly in his hospital room on the chair next to him, Jack is the one who feels vulnerable. The feel of her skin against his fingers as she grips his hand in hers is an exquisite reminder of what he’s lost, and he’s engulfed by a wave of grief and relief that she is here by his side.

“Jack?” she asks when his fingers tighten against hers.

He forces his eyes open and looks at her; really sees her, sitting there beside him, concern etched onto her face. Something in her eyes that reminds him of the way she used to look at him, before Charlie died.

“I’m okay,” he lies, relaxing his grip. “Sometimes the pain….”

“Do you need some more meds?” she asks, looking around the room as though Daniel or Teal’c can somehow turn into a nurse.

“No,” he says, “I’m okay now.”

“Good,” she says, and doesn’t let go of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, please don't hate on me too much!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Nellie for being so thorough and not letting me take the easy way out. Thank you also to Sarah_M for late night whinges and understanding that a house is better burnt to the ground than left standing with a Huntsman in it.

He’s tired of Daniel’s fussing and Teal’c’s scrutinising gaze, so when he finally gets discharged home, he gets a cab instead of calling Daniel. It’s almost three weeks since he was last home, and by the time the cab is pulling up in front of his house his leg is throbbing and he’s feeling sick, wishing he hadn’t been quite so quick to brush off Daniel’s offers of help. The small steps up to his front door seem almost insurmountable as he struggles out of the cab and carefully finds his balance on the crutches; the healing surgical wounds along his side pull and protest against the movement.

The cab driver is helping him with his duffle when he realises the front door is open, and a feminine figure is hurrying down the steps, blond hair bright in the autumn sunshine.

“Jack, you should have called. I would have picked you up!”

She stopped by to see him a few times at the hospital, and called every other day to see how he was going, but Sara is the last person he’s expecting to see at his house. He’s still hazy on pain meds, tired and confused. He stares at her dumbly as she walks up to him, leaning over obediently so she can kiss him on the cheek and slip an arm around his waist to help him into the house.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, starting to feel a bit like a broken record when it comes to seeing Sara in unexpected places. The familiar scent and feel of her, wrapped around him, hits him in the solar plexus and he is dragged back to a dozen memories of a lifetime before when he came back injured and Sara was there to welcome him home. He tries hard not to think about the fact that Charlie was also there to welcome him back to a home filled with light and noise and colour and love.

“I knew you were getting discharged soon, so I thought I’d get the house ready for when you got home.”

“My house wasn’t ready for me?”

“Well, the kitchen was a mess, and whatever you were trying to grow in your fridge is probably not FDA approved so I picked up some frozen dinners.”

“You’re staying?”

“No, but you’ll need someone around to help you out for the first few days, so I was planning on stopping by.”

“You don’t need to do this, Sara.”

“No Jack, I do,” Sara says quietly. “Let me?”

Jack loves Sara deeply; he always has. She stood by him, unwavering, through years of deployments and dark missions, and three months of believing him dead. Even in the wake of Charlie’s death she stood firm with love and support, and he had let her down in a way that was unforgivable. And yet, here she is again, a solid shoulder and soft warmth beside him, offering him what he needs and more than she should.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, holding her tight for a moment and breathing in her scent, feeling for a moment like he truly is coming home. He tells himself the ache in his gut is from his injuries, and not the part of them that is missing forever.

\---

“All right, let’s do this!” Siler’s voice rings out as the gate snaps shut behind the departing team. “Are you ready to start, Doctor Carter?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says, pausing at the foot of the ramp to gaze up at the large ring in front of her. “Let’s get this done as fast as we can, before the gate activates and we have to start again.”

He barks out some orders to his crew, and they divide into two groups, sensors and cables trailing in their wake. Several minutes later he nods at Sam, who pushes over a processor and hooks up some of the cables.

Tobias limps over to join them as the data starts streaming in, still favouring her right ankle after her recent trip to Antarctica.

“What are you hoping to achieve?” she asks.

“Our dialling program is too slow,” Sam says. “We know it can be done faster because of the DHDs off-world. We also know that our energy usage is very inefficient. We’re trying to connect some data recorders and get a baseline to help us interpret the data over the next couple of weeks so we can develop a program to-”

Sam’s explanation is cut off as the chevrons glow red, and seconds later the automated alert warning of an unauthorised gate activation is blaring overhead. Sam hasn’t been in the gateroom for many active wormholes, and despite the potential danger she is riveted to the spot, watching as the gushing vortex rebounds out of the ring and the wormhole stabilises. Sam would continue to linger, enthralled by the fluctuations in the event horizon, but Tobias has a hold of her arm and is propelling her back behind the line of Airmen now streaming into the room with their weapons raised.

“I’m receiving audio from SG-3, and their IDC.”

“Patch it through,” Hammond orders from the control room. “Colonel Makepeace?”

“Sir, it looks like there has been a significant atmospheric or cataclysmic event on this planet since the MALP was initially sent through,” Makepeace’s disembodied voice bounces around the room. “My team and I are fine, but we’ve found some survivors around the gate who are in a bad way, and we’re going to need some assistance retrieving them for rescue.”

“How many, Colonel?”

“I’m not sure yet, General. We have several dead and at least two that still have a pulse. I’m sending Doctor Jackson and Sargeant Emmerson through with one each, while Teal’c and the rest of my team do a sweep of the surroundings. I think there are likely a few buried under the ash we may still be able to help.”

“I’ll get SG-2 and SG-6 prepped and ready for rescue, Colonel.”

“Thanks, General. Jackson and Emmerson are about to step through.”

Seconds later, the wormhole ripples and two heavily burdened figures stagger onto the ramp.

“Medical team to the gate room!”

Tobias hobbles past the lines of Airmen still aiming their guns at the event horizon, and Sam isn’t really sure why but she finds herself following the Lieutenant back towards the ramp.

Daniel is coughing and choking, the victim he rescued clumsily rolled to the metal ramp beside him. Both are covered in ash and soot; the stranger is unmoving on the hard surface. Sam reaches for the person - a man, she thinks - and tentatively feels for a pulse. It beats weakly in his neck, and she can see the small leaves of ash stuck to his lip and nose fluttering as he draws in breath and releases it. She’s looking up to find the medical team when the man opens his eyes and grabs her wrist, staring at her intensely. He whispers something she can’t make out, then his eyes close and his hand goes slack around her wrist as the medics arrive.

\---

For the first time in as long as she can remember, Sam feels completely stumped about a piece of technology. The small devices lined up on the bench in front of her are stubbornly refusing to yield their secrets, and she has no idea what to try next. She is starting to understand how sometimes technology can appear like magic to a race that doesn’t have an understanding of the basic principles behind that technology.

“Any ideas yet?” Tobias asks she limps into the room. “General Hammond’s asking what we know, and I think the higher ups are pretty excited at the thought of this level of technology.”

“I can’t even get a clear energy reading on them. There is some low level radiation energy, but other than that... ”

Tobias shakes her head. “They must do something.”

“I know,” Sam says, frustrated. “I just have no idea where to start with them. I think they’re so far beyond our grasp that we aren’t going to decipher them on our own.”

“Have you managed to get one open yet?”

“No.”

“I wish we could just break one open to see what’s inside,” Tobia says, reaching for one of them.

Sam stares at Tobias, watching as she examines the device closely, fingers tracing the edges and looking for a seam.

“Our orders were to not damage or destroy them,” Sam points out.

“Yes, but our orders are also to understand them and figure them out. We’re not doing that by just looking at them. And our overarching orders are to obtain and develop new technology.”

“But-”

“I’m not going to _actually_ break one, Doctor Carter. It just seems like the easiest way to get the information we need if the Tollan aren’t going to share it with us.”

The words sit uncomfortably in the air between them, and Sam looks at the device still in Tobias’ hands. Tobias’ fingers pause in their study, and Sam looks up to meet her gaze. They consider each other for brief moments before Tobias looks back down at the object in her hands.

“It’s frustrating that we have this technology _right here_ , and we can’t do anything about it,” Tobias sighs, closing her fingers over it.

Sam holds out her hand, and after a long moment Tobias returns the device to her. “I’m going to see if it reacts to different temperatures and sound frequencies,” Sam says, curling her fingers over the cool object.

“Before you do that, General Hammond wants to see you. One of the aliens is asking questions about you.”

“About me?” Sam asks, surprised.

Tobias grins suddenly, wicked amusement in her eyes. “He remembers you from the Gate room, apparently. I think General Hammond is hoping that you may succeed in getting closer to the aliens than anyone else has so far.”

“Oh,” Sam says, mouth dry. She’s suddenly aware of her heart beat in her chest, and the way her hands feel sweaty.

“He’s pretty cute,” Tobias continues, unaware of the panic starting to build in Sam’s chest. “I think he _likes_ you.”

“I… what about the devices?” she asks weakly.

Tobias shrugs. “I love this sort of thing,” she says. “I’m happy to keep working with them. In fact, I wish I had more time to play with alien technology. It’s the one good thing about being on light duty - more lab time.” She holds her hand out for the device.

Reluctantly, Sam passes it over to her, and then stands for long moments, her feet frozen to the ground, unable to move.

Tobias looks up, and for a second Sam feels exposed and vulnerable under her gaze. “Don’t look so worried,” Tobias says. “Hammond won’t expect you to be locked alone in a room with the alien. They’re all in an open area, and there are lots of SGC personnel around. You’ll be fully supervised the whole time.”

“I…”

“As far as aliens go, these ones seem quite passive.”

Sam nods, and takes another moment before she walks out the door to go find General Hammond.

\---

Narim, the alien from Tollana, is charming and apparently besotted with her. Sam feels flattered, but a little uncomfortable by the obvious adoration he displays. It’s sort of sweet how he has compared her to an angel, but Sam’s been burned before by smooth comments and sophisticated appearing men. So she smiles politely, ducks her head when his compliments become a bit heavy, and tries her hardest to learn about his people and their technology.

In the two days that Narim and his people have been with them, they’ve learned little about their world, and even less about their technology, so Sam is surprised when Hammond determines that as an act of good faith the devices will be returned to the Tollan. Especially given they still don’t have any idea what it is that the objects do.

“Here they are,” the lab technician says as she pushes over the crate the devices are stored in.

Sam pops the lid open, and frowns at the contents. “There’s one missing,” she says.

“I beg your pardon, Doctor Carter?”

“There are only nine here, Captain Rogers.”

“Yes, ma’am. There are only nine registered as having been recovered,” Rogers says. “I’ve got the log here if you want to have a look.”

“There are ten Tollan people though,” Sam points out, frowning.

“Only nine on my inventory,” Rogers insists, irritation starting to colour her words. “Would you like to see it for yourself?”

“Have you got a log of who checked these out?” Sam asks instead.

“You are the only person who’s had them logged against your name, Doctor Carter.”

Sam stares down at the devices sitting innocently in their protective case. She’s certain there were ten, but maybe she had just assumed?

“Doctor Carter?”

“And no one else has had access to them?”

“According to the records, you’re the only person that collected them and brought them back. I couldn’t tell you who had access to them while you had them in the lab, Doctor Carter.”

“Okay,” she relents, closing the lid reluctantly.

The truth is, for the better part of the last two days the devices have been left in the lab for anyone interested to work on. Most of the science department has had a device in their hands at some point for examination and attempts to activate them.

Maybe there had just been nine devices, and she’d assumed ten because that’s the number of Tollan people that had been saved.

When Omoc insists that they are lying to him, and says they are stealing a device from one of his people, Sam finds she can’t deny his accusations because a part of her thinks he is right, despite adamant protestations from General Hammond and Daniel. Without proof, Sam has nothing to offer, so she remains silent and wonders how, if someone has taken it, they managed to change inventory and logging lists to erase all traces of its existence.

\---

It’s barely three hours after returning the devices to Omoc’s people that the Tollan pull off an escape act that seems impossible, and it’s less than twenty four hours after that when they realise just how far ahead of Earth the Tollan are technologically.

“Wow,” Sam breathes, watching the recovered footage showing the Tollan walking through solid matter. “That’s… that’s incredible.”

“How can they just walk through walls?” Colonel Makepeace asks, amazement colouring his tone.

“I’d love to know what else their technology is capable of,” Sam says, staring at the screen frozen on a Tollan halfway through a wall.

“This is knowledge far beyond that of the Goa’uld,” Teal’c agrees, and Sam hears a hint of awe on his voice.

“That’s exactly what the President and Joint Chiefs want to hear,” an unfamiliar voice announces. Sam turns to see a man in full uniform standing behind them, barely hidden excitement evident on his features. “Colonel Maybourne, Sir. NID,” he introduces himself, snapping off a salute.

“Colonel,” Hammond acknowledges. “May I ask what you’re doing on my base?”

“Didn’t you get my advance, General?” Maybourne asks, but the carefully feigned innocence on his voice suggests to Sam that there was no advance sent ahead of time.

“No,” Hammond says curtly.

“I’m here to collect the Tollan, General. I have an order releasing them to our section.”

“Hold on a minute!” Daniel interrupts. “What do you mean-”

“Let’s move this to the briefing room,” Hammond interjects, silencing Daniel with a look.

Sam watches as General Hammond leads Colonels Maybourne and the SG team members to the briefing room; she finds herself wishing desperately that Jack was here on the base instead of on leave recovering from his injuries.

\---

When Daniel, Tobias and Teal’c find her some time later and tell her that the Tollan are going to be taken by the NID, she’s not surprised.

“I thought as much,” Sam says, closing her eyes briefly. “I warned Narim,” she confesses, opening her eyes to look at the two men. “I don’t know what good it’s going to do, because they don’t trust us anyway, but I had to do something.”

“You don’t think Narim trusts you?” Daniel asks.

“I believe he would trust Doctor Carter,” Teal’c says.

“I think maybe he’d like to trust me,” Sam says carefully. “But I think with Omoc’s suspicion, and the previous events on his home world, he probably doesn’t trust me as much as he’d like too.

“Well, I have an idea,” Daniel says, “and I think it’s their only chance, so they’re going to have to trust us.”

“Wait a minute,” Tobias says. “Have you thought about what this could mean?”

“What ‘what’ could mean?” Daniel asks.

“It sounds like all of these Tollan people know how their technology works, and have all sorts of knowledge that could help us with our fight against the Goa’uld.”

“Well, yes,” Daniel agrees, frowning. “They’re not going to share it with us though, are they?”

“They definitely won’t be sharing it with us if they’re not here,” Tobias points out.

“Are you suggesting that we just hand the Tollan over to Maybourne and the NID?” Daniel asks slowly.

“I’m saying that this is one of the few opportunities we’ve had to really gain something tangible from the Stargate, Daniel. Something that could help us against the Goa’uld.”

“Spell it out for me, Claire,” Daniel says stiffly. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m not saying give them to Maybourne or the NID, but I’m also saying that there must be a way we can get them to help us. Maybe if Doctor Carter spent more time with Narim, she could convince him to stay and-”

“So Sam convinces him to stay, and then what? Maybourne locks him up in this secure facility for the rest of his natural life?” Daniel demands angrily.

“I’m not lying to Narim,” Sam says.

“I’m not asking you to lie,” Tobias says. “But he seems pretty interested in you. Maybe you could convince him to just give us _something_ that might help us.”

“Nothing I say will convince him,” Sam says flatly.

“I’m not suggesting you have to _say_ anything,” Tobias says. “I’m suggesting maybe you could, I don’t know, leverage the crush he has on you.”

“In what way?” Daniel asks, narrowing his eyebrows.

Tobias shrugs. “In whatever way presents itself, I’d imagine,” she says non-specifically.

There’s a hollow feeling in Sam’s stomach as she studies Tobias. “You want me to use him,” she says. “Abuse whatever trust he has in me, and whatever friendship we’ve built, purely for our gain.”

“Maybe if we can get some information out of them, the NID won’t be so quick to rush them off,” Tobias points out.

“Or,” Daniel says, “we could just _let them go_.”

“Let them go where?” Tobias argues. “They have nowhere to go.”

“That’s where I think you’re wrong,” Daniel says. “I have an idea.”

“Is this going to go against our orders, Daniel?”

“What are our orders, exactly?” Daniel asks.

“There is a direct Presidential order to turn these people over to the NID as soon as Doctor Fraiser clears them, and I’m well aware she’s already cleared them.”

“Who’s side are you on, Claire?”

“I’m on _our_ side, Daniel,” she says emphatically. “The side that is trying to defend this planet against the Goa’uld. The side that is following my orders and doing the right thing.”

“The right thing is _not_ imprisoning these people for having more knowledge than we have.”

“They won’t be imprisoned,” Tobias says half-heartedly.

“Really?” Daniel asks.

Tobias doesn’t answer.

“Claire, it’s not the right thing, and you know it.”

“We could really use this technology though,” she whispers.

“I know,” Daniel agrees. “But this isn’t the way to do it. If we do this, we’re no better than the Goa’uld.”

There’s silence between them, and then Tobias nods her head reluctantly. “I can’t help you,” she says. “I’d get court-martialed.”

“I know,” Daniel says. “So I’m going to tell you to go now, and that way you won’t know what we discuss.”

Tobias gets up to go, and pauses at the threshold. “For what it’s worth, Daniel, I don’t want to imprison these people or have them treated badly.”

“I know, Claire.”

When the door shuts behind her, Daniel takes a breath and leans back onto Sam’s lab bench. “Okay,” he says. “Here’s what I’m thinking.”

\---

“Do you need anything?” Sara asks, her head peering around the corner at Jack where he’s settled on the sofa with his leg propped up on cushions.

“I’m good,” he says, picking up the remote. “I’ll be fine, Sara.”

“I won’t be gone long,” she says, slipping her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll grab some takeout on the way home. Do we need anything else from the store?”

“I think we’re fine,” he says, turning on the TV and sliding his gaze over to the screen. Thanks to Sara taking over the running of the house, Jack’s fridge has never been as well-stocked as it currently is. She disappears from view as she rummages around in the hall, putting on her shoes.

“And you’re certain you want to stay home alone?”

“Yes,” he says rolling his eyes at the screen.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Jack,” her voice drifts back to him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he calls back, rolling his eyes again, flicking through the channels until he finds the NHL. He’s turning up the volume when he hears the unmistakable sound of knocking at the front door, and then Sara’s voice greeting someone.

“Looks who’s stopped by,” she says moments later, appearing around the corner with Daniel following behind her.

“Hey, Jack,” Daniel says, smiling at him.

“Daniel, hey!”

“Is this a bad time?” Daniel asks, looking at both him and Sara.

“Oh, not at all,” Sara answers before Jack can say anything. “I was just about to run a few errands, and didn’t really want to leave Jack at home on his own.”

Jack rolls his eyes again, trying to stamp on the irritation that’s starting to build. “I’m an adult, Sara, and I’m capable of being on my own.”

“But your leg-”

“I have crutches, I can cope,” he says patiently. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“Are you going to stay for dinner? I’m getting takeout on the way home,” Sara says to Daniel.

“Uh, thanks, but no,” Daniel says awkwardly.

“Go get some beer,” Jack orders Daniel.

“Jack!” Sara admonishes. “I can get the beer,” she tells Daniel. “Ignore his lack of manners, please.”

“Have a seat,” he tells Daniel, flicking the TV to mute and watching the game for a few seconds.

They make small talk, thanking Sara for their beer, and then silence settles over them once Sara has left.

“So you and Sara, huh?” Daniel says.

“It’s not like that,” Jack says slowly.

“Oh?”

“She’s just helping me out until this leg heals up. She doesn’t think I can cope on my own.”

Daniel makes a noise that’s noncommittal but still manages to sound disbelieving. “If you say so.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jack, ex-wives don’t usually move back in just to help out,” Daniel points out.

“No,” Jack agrees, “they don’t. Technically, she’s not an ex-wife.”

“I thought you guys separated?”

“We did. But we never did the paperwork.”

“So technically you’re still married?”

Jack shrugs. “It never felt right filing for divorce,” he admits. “I just…”

“And now she’s back,” Daniel says slowly, “and things are comfortable?”

It’s Jack’s turn to make a noncommittal noise. “Something like that.”

“And she’s bringing dinner ‘home’.”

Jack sighs. “She’s staying the spare room, Daniel. It made sense, instead of her driving backwards and forwards every day.”

“Interesting,” Daniel says thoughtfully.

“Interesting?”

“It’s just… it’s nothing.”

“Spit it out, Daniel.”

“I just had the impression that maybe you and Sam were… you know.”

“That Sam and I were what?”

“Maybe developing something a bit more than friendship.”

The impulse to deny it straight away is strong, but Jack hesitates. “We were only just getting to know each other,” Jack says carefully.

“But…”

Jack sighs. “She’s a great person. And if Sara hadn’t come back, maybe there would have been something. Maybe. But we both have a lot of baggage, Daniel, and I don’t think either of us was ready to really go there.”

“But you’re ready to go there with Sara?” Daniel asks. “Sorry, that was out of line, Jack.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I’m not here to talk about you and Sam or Sara anyway,” Daniel says, taking a swallow of his beer after an awkward little silence.

“Then why are you here?”

“I just…”

“Daniel.”

“We had some…. Visitors…. At the base a few days ago,” Daniel starts slowly.

“Yes,” Jack says. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Hammond has been keeping me updated.”

“Oh. Well. Then you know what happened.”

“I know the official line,” Jack agrees. “I don’t know the full story though.”

Daniel shifts in his seat, looking guilty and defiant all at once.

“My guess,” Jack continues, eyeing the archaeologist. “Is that you didn’t feel it was humane or a good idea to let the NID get involved with the visitors, and so you came up with a scheme to help them find a new home.”

“Something like that,” Daniel agrees, picking at the label on his beer.

“Hammond thinks you did the right thing,” Jack says, not really sure what has Daniel so tied up in knots.

“I know,” Daniel says.

“Then what’s worrying you?”

“We’ve been a team for what, almost a year now?” Daniel asks, derailing Jack’s line of thought completely.

“Ye-es.”

“How can you be on a team with someone, and trust them with your life, but not really know them at all?”

Jack watches as Daniel finishes tearing the label off his bottle of hardly touched beer, and starts shredding it between his fingers.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Claire wasn’t against the NID taking the Tollan,” Daniel says eventually.

Jack absorbs the words, and drinks his beer.

“Well, she wasn’t for the NID taking them, as much as she was for wanting to keep them here to try and force or trick their knowledge out of them.”

“Those two statements are very different, Daniel,” Jack says carefully.

“Not really,” Daniel says. “If they stayed here it was only ever going to play out down the NID route, and that was never going to be humane. Claire seemed to think that while it wasn’t the preferable method, the end justified the means.”

“Our orders, Daniel, are to acquire new technology and knowledge that can help us in the fight against the Goa’uld,” Jack points out. “It sounds like the Tollan could have provided that.”

“At the expense of making us no better than the Goa’uld, by imprisoning these people until they give us what we want? How is that any better than torture, Jack?”

Jack sighs. “It’s not,” he agrees. “The end doesn’t always justify the means, Daniel, but sometimes it’s the lesser of two evils.”

“Maybe,” Daniel says reluctantly, and finally takes a drink of his beer. “What would you have done?”

Jack smiles. “You know what I would have done.”

“Yes,” Daniel says, nodding. “And that’s why I’m struggling to reconcile with Claire’s point of view.”

“Do you trust her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Out there,” Jack waves his hand towards the sky aimlessly. “Do you trust her to have your back? To get you home?”

“Yes,” Daniel says without hesitation.

“Then that’s all that matters. Personal beliefs and opinions, they don’t mean squat when we’re out there, Daniel. Trust is everything. And maybe you can learn from her, and she can learn from you.”

Daniel is quiet for a long time as he nurses his beer, and eventually Jack flips the volume on the TV down low, his attention wandering back to the game.

“Sam helped me get the Tollan out of there,” Daniel says eventually. “She hacked the iris and got me the coordinates we needed to contact the Nox. And she helped get the Tollan to trust us.”

“She’s pretty incredible,” Jack agrees.

Even though Jack’s attention is focused on the television, he doesn’t miss the considering look Daniel gives him before he says, too casually, “Narim really liked her.”

Jack takes the bait; he can’t help himself. “Who’s Narim?”

“Oh, one of the Tollan people,” Daniel says airily, once again shooting Jack a not-so-subtle look that he clearly thought was subtle. “I walked in on them kissing.”

Jack tries not to choke too obviously as he’s taking a swig of his beer. “What?”

“Oh, yeah,” Daniel says, smirking now. “Narim didn’t waste any time. Not that I blame him, she’s an amazing woman.”

“Long distance?” Jack asks.

Daniel shrugs. “No idea. I don’t think so. To be honest, I think Sam was mostly a little freaked at how much the guy seemed to obsess over her.”

“Mmm,” Jack says noncommittally, turning his attention back to the television. He really shouldn’t be interested in who Sam Carter has been kissing.

“I get the feeling that she’s had some bad experiences.”

Jack doesn’t disagree, but it’s not his place to say anything. “Daniel, if you’re fishing for information, I don’t have any. Why don’t you just ask Sam if you want to know?”

“She’s not exactly an open book, Jack.”

“She doesn’t need people prying into her business, Daniel. She just needs friends.”

Daniel nods. “You’re right,” he agrees, taking another drink of his beer. “The two of you are very similar, you know. It’s probably why you got along so well.”

“Maybe,” Jack says, eyes back on the game now. And maybe, he thinks as he has another mouthful, they just got along so well because they were two people who’d been through a lot, and happened to cross each other’s paths at the right time.

They sit in comfortable silence, nursing their beers and watching the game until Sara returns home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments and kudos here on AO3, and the lovely messages and comments over on tumblr - it's so wonderful to read your thoughts and comments about the story, and to know that people are interested in seeing where it goes! As always, thank you for your patience in between updates, and the encouragement along the way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for the delay on this chapter!! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Thank you to Nellie for the beta (any mistakes are my own, and any issues are my own too because I pretty much did what Nellie told me not to do. Sorry Nellie!).
> 
> Also thank you to Sarah_M for waving the pompoms at me and bringing things back into perspective. You are my favourite unicorn!

It’s a wet, rainy afternoon. His house smells like hot apple pie and freshly brewed coffee, underpinned by the scent of wood polish and citrus cleaner - everyday scents he’s long since stopped coming home to, but now that they’re present again he realises why his home has felt so empty and stale.

Sara’s sprawled on his sofa, engrossed in one of the mystery novels she loves, while hockey is on in the background with the sound down low. It’s a scene exquisite in its familiarity, and Jack’s still trying to convince himself that he isn’t dreaming.

He’s studying her discreetly, taking in the familiar profile and line of her neck, the way her foot is gently tapping to some internal rhythm while she’s focused on her book. She’s been here for two weeks—two weeks longer than he thought she would stay—and he’s not entirely sure what it is that’s brought her back to him. It’s been equally comforting and disconcerting having her in his house, the constant reminders of the life they had and how good they were together overshadowed by what they lost and how he failed her.

Maybe, he thinks, as he gets to his feet on his crutches, this is about some sort of redemption—he’s not sure whose—or trying to find something they lost. Jack’s not convinced he has what she’s looking for now, anymore than he did two years ago, but he’s changed enough to realise that he lost more than just Charlie the first time around.

He’s just about at the front door when the doorbell rings.

“Cass!” Jack says with a smile, finding Cassandra Fraiser standing on his doorstep, cheeks rosy with cold and a bright blue woollen cap perched on her red hair. “What are you doing here?”

“Janet said you broke your leg,” Cassie says, staring curiously at the cast on Jack’s leg. “I’ve never seen a broken leg before. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. Instead of Fraiser standing behind Cassie, he sees an uncomfortable, almost shy looking Sam Carter on his front porch. “Hi, Sam.”

“I’m sorry for coming by without warning,” Sam apologises. “She was desperate to see you.”

“It’s fine,” he tells her as Sara steps into the entryway behind him.

“Oh,” Sam says, looking uncomfortable again. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“You haven’t,” Jack says easily. “I don’t think you met Sara earlier. Sara, this is Sam Carter, she works on the base. And this is Cassandra Fraiser.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sara says. A bitter gust of wind blows around them, and Cassie shivers on the doorstep. “Come on in out of the cold. There’s a fresh baked apple pie in the kitchen that should just be cooled enough to eat.”  

Jack steps back, and lets both Sam and Cassie into the hallway.

“Sam and I made you a card to help you feel better,” Cassie announces, holding up a large, taped together piece of paper resembling an envelope.

“Thanks, Cassie,” Jack says.

Sara busies herself in the kitchen, collecting plates and cups while Jack sits himself at the bench and opens his card.

“Wow,” he says, impressed with the vivid strokes of paint and bold colours. “This is awesome. Your writing is looking great.”

“Yup,” Cassie says proudly.

“How old are you, Cassandra?” Sara asks, peering over Jack’s shoulder to admire the artwork.

“I’m almost ten,” Cassie says.

The rattle of the cups on the tray Sara has in her hands tells Jack that she’s reminded of another child who would be almost ten now, if he was still around. His gaze flicks over to Sam, who’s watching behind him with a look of sadness and understanding before she looks over at him and sends him a sad little half smile.

“Can we eat some pie now?” Cassie asks.

“Of course,” Sara says, and Jack can hear the quaver in her voice. “Do you like whipped cream?”

“Yes, please.”

The pie is tart and sweet and sticky, with a buttery crust that flakes in his mouth. Jack follows Cassandra’s lead and focuses on his pie with single-minded determination, trying to ignore the awkward tension hovering around his kitchen table. As the last crumbs are picked off his plate, he can’t really hide behind his fork any longer.

“I saw Daniel a couple of days ago,” he says, searching for a topic.

“Yeah, he said he stopped by.”

“He said that you did some good work with the recent visitors you had.”

She blushes, and a shy smile of pleasure tugs at her lips. “It was all Daniel’s idea.”

“No doubt,” Jack agrees. “But he needed you to make it happen.”

“Are you still going to help me with a Halloween costume?” Cassie asks, licking her fork clean with no regard for the table manners Jack knows Fraiser has been drilling into her. “It’s almost Halloween now, and I still don’t have anything.”

“Of course,” Jack reassures her, vaguely remembering a conversation with Cassie about Halloween and costumes and trick-or-treating. “Any ideas about what you want to go as?”

“Teal’c,” Cassie says.

Sam snorts into her coffee, and then pretends to have a coughing fit when Cassie shoots her a wounded look. “What’s wrong with that?” she demands.

“Nothing,” Jack says quickly, trying not to look at Sam, “It’s just most people won’t understand your costume.”

“So? I can just tell them I’m Teal’c.”

“It’s just most children on… here… choose costumes that are a little more… mainstream,” Jack says diplomatically, eyes flicking briefly to Sara who is silent but interested.

“What do you mean?”

“Things like ghosts or pirates or cowboys,” Sam explains. “Superheros, or well-known people that everyone has heard of.”

“But Teal’c is like a superhero,”

“Well, yes,” Jack agrees. “But he’s a secret superhero, Cass, so people don’t know about him.”

“Oh.” She drops into silence, staring at her empty plate. “What do I go as then?”

Jack watches as Sara starts gathering up the empty plates and cups and loads the dishwasher, listening with half an ear as Sam and Cassie discuss various costume options. Listening to Sam’s inspired suggestions - Einstein, an astronaut, Isaac Newton, a scientist, a chef, a cat - Jack can understand why Cassie thought of Teal’c as a suitable option.

“What about Dorothy?” Sara suggests from the dishwasher as she loads the final dishes.

“Dorothy?” Cassie asks.

“You know, from the _Wizard of Oz_ ,” Sara explains.

“I don’t know that story,” Cassie says, and Jack watches as Sara’s eyebrows hike up her forehead to her hairline.

“You don’t?”

“No. I’m not… I’m not from around here. I’m from Toronto,” Cassie explains, as though it’s okay that children from Toronto have never heard of the _Wizard of Oz_.

“Oh.” Sara shoots him a discerning glance. “Well, Cassandra who is from _Toronto_ , it just so happens that Jack knows the story of Dorothy and the _Wizard of Oz_ very, very well.”

And that is how Jack finds himself watching the _Wizard of Oz_ on a rainy afternoon with Cassie cuddled against him on the sofa while they wait for the pizza to arrive.

When it’s getting late and Cassie’s eyes are drooping, Sam tells them goodnight. She takes Cassandra home, leaving him and Sara in a house that suddenly seems both too large and too small while echoing with silence.

“Cassie’s sweet,” Sara says quietly; there’s a longing on her voice that echoes the emptiness in his soul.

“She’s a good kid who’s been through a lot,” Jack agrees, the words thick in his throat. He rests a hand on Sara’s shoulder, trying to say the things with his touch that he can’t find his voice to say. She reaches up and squeezes his fingers with hers, holding them against her.

“Sam seems nice too.”

“She is,” Jack agrees, unsure of where the conversation is going. Before Sara came back into his life, Jack had been thinking that maybe there was the potential for _something_ with Sam; a connection and spark he was finding magnetic. That connection is still there, but now Sara is there too, and Jack’s not really sure where that leaves him and Sam.

Sara tangles her fingers with his and turns to face him, still holding his hand as it slips off her shoulder. “I miss him, Jack. I miss him so much. And I miss you.”

He still can’t find the words, but he holds her tight against him, close to his heart, feeling the way her fingers dig into his skin and she fights to control her breathing. When she pulls away, resting her hands on his chest to look up at him, he wipes the hint of tears from her eyes with gentle thumbs and kisses the corner of her lips softly, tasting the salt of her tears and the ache of her grief.

That night, Sara shares his bed and Jack lies awake for a long time after, their skin hot and sweaty and pressed together. He’s holding a memory in his arms and wondering if this fleeting taste of the past can solidify into a future.

\---

As soon as Sam agrees to join Cassie and Janet for trick-or-treating, she regrets it. She hasn’t gone trick or treating in a long, long time, and she’s never been known for creative or amazing costumes. Halloween is right up there as one of her least favourite times of year. She regrets it even more when she finds out that trick-or-treating will be followed by a get-together at Jack’s house.

She surveys herself in the mirror one more time, disgruntled and irritated by her reflection, and deliberately walks away.

Still, she tells herself, fidgeting with the uncomfortable wig, this is for Cassie, She can pretend to enjoy this for Cassie.

She only waits a few minutes before Janet’s car pulls to a stop outside of her apartment building. Janet is almost unrecognisable under a thick coat of make-up, complete with artfully applied moles and a prosthetic nose.

“Wow,” Sam says as she tries to climb into the car, her costume crunching and squashing awkwardly as she shuts the door. “You look great, Janet.”

Janet cackles in a passable imitation of the Wicked Witch of the West and starts driving once Sam is in the car.

“Sam, I’m Dorothy!” Cassie says excitedly from the back.

Sam cranes her head around to admire Cassie’s cute little pinafore dress. “You look just like Dorothy.”

“Sara made my costume for me, and Janet did my hair.”

She feels a stab of jealousy at the thought of Sara making Cassie’s costume, and wonders when Sara and Cassie spent enough time together for Sara to make it.

“Who made your costume, Sam?” Cassie asks.

“I bought it and then drew on it,” Sam admits.

“You look… cute,” Janet says, obviously searching for an appropriate word.

“What are you?” Cassie asks.

Sam sighs inwardly.

“She’s a pumpkin, Cassie,” Janet says as though it’s obvious.

“Actually,” Sam says, trying to straighten out the front of her bulging costume. “I’m a pumpkin _pi_ , see? Get it? Pi?”

Janet tries to peer over at her front to make out the hand drawn Pi symbol when she stops at an intersection. “Oh, yes, I see. Clever.”

Sam sighs. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s perfect for you,” Janet says kindly. “You are a scientist, and the science jokes are pretty clever.”

“I’m just as lame now as I was in high school,” Sam says.

“You don’t look like a pie, Sam,” Cassie says helpfully. “You do look like a pumpkin.”

Sam rests her head back on the seat and closes her eyes, wishing the night over. She really, really hates Halloween.

When they pull up to Jack’s house Cassie is ooh-ing and aah-ing in the backseat as she takes in the all the decorations.

“Wow,” Sam says as she struggles to climb out of the car, attempting to reshape her now uneven pumpkin. “He’s really gone all out. The whole neighbourhood has!”

“That’s why this is our trick-or-treating destination,” Janet says. “That and the fact that Cassie hasn’t stopped raving about Sara’s pumpkin pie, so I’m looking forward to trying some myself.”

“Sara’s pumpkin pie?”

“Cassie’s been spending her afternoons here, visiting the Colonel and Sara. Sara has been picking her up after school.”

There’s no need for the jealousy that sticks in Sam’s gut – Cassie isn’t an object to be fought over – but the jolt in her chest doesn’t understand rationality. Cassie could have been hers, and maybe if she wasn’t such damaged goods, Jack...

“You okay?” Janet asks over the roof of the car before she opens Cassie’s door.

“Fine,” Sam says, forcing out a smile. “I just… I hate Halloween.”

“You don’t have to do this, Sam,” Janet says, opening the door.

“I know,” Sam says. “But I want to. It’s just…”

The understanding in Janet’s eyes suggests she is well aware that Halloween is an excuse for Sam’s mood.

“Come on then,” Janet says, swinging the door shut after Cassie climbs out. “Let’s go get some candy. Candy always makes everything better.”

“I hope someone has chocolate,” Sam mutters, linking arms with Janet and following an eager Cassie down the road.

\---

Jack watches Cassie, Janet and Sam arrive and then disappear down the street on their trick-or-treating adventure. He’s not entirely sure about Sam’s choice of costume, but the grin on Cassie’s face was visible a mile away. He stays close to the door, handing out candy when kids knock and welcoming the members of his team as they arrive in between swarms of children. By the time his trick-or-treating guests make their way back up his street, most of his candy is gone and the house is full of the rich scents of freshly baked goods and warm soup.

“Cassie’s going to love this!” Sara says excitedly, peering through the front door beside him, watching Cassie’s slow progress up the street as she stops in at each house for more candy.

“You’re setting the bar too high,” Tobias comments from the living room. “Now she’s going to expect a big Halloween thing every year, and someone’s going to have to explain to her that this isn’t normal.”

“Nonsense,” Sara says, still watching the blue-gingham clad figure coming closer to the front path. “We used to go all out for Halloween every year. Charlie loved it.”

Jack wasn’t home for every Halloween with Charlie, but the ones that he did share with Sara and Charlie definitely were full of baked goods and trick-or-treating and gatherings with friends. Then again, every holiday tended to be overrun with family and friends and a dizzying schedule of social events when he was home with Sara.

“This _is_ a little over the top, Sara,” Jack comments, moving out of the way as Sara pushes past him with her pink satin and tulle to yank the door open as Cassie starts climbing the front steps.

“Don’t be a grinch, Jack,” she says, plastering a smile on her face. “Cassie! Look at you!”

“It’s Halloween, not Christmas,” Jack mutters, but can’t help smiling at the excitement on Cassie’s face as she bursts through the front door.

“Sara, you’re the Good Witch!” she says excitedly. “Jack! You’re dressed up too! Wow, is everyone dressed up? You’re _all_ from The _Wizard of Oz_!”

Jack wasn’t convinced when Sara first suggested everyone should wear a costume, but the joy and excitement on Cassie’s face right now is totally worth it. He gets a brief hug before Sara bundles Cassie towards the kitchen where she has a spread of Halloween inspired treats waiting for their guests.

“Great costume, Colonel,” Fraiser says, smirking at him from beneath a prosthetic nose.

“You too,” he returns, tapping the edge of the prosthesis with his finger in acknowledgement.

“Come on in, let me get you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m driving, but Sam could probably use one.” Fraiser hands him a bucket full of candy and disappears into the living room where Teal’c and Tobias call out in greeting.

“Nice costume,” Jack says as Sam steps into the doorway, the sides of her bright costume brushing against the door frame. “What are you, a pumpkin?”

She sighs, tugging at the orange bulge and blowing green tinsel hair out of her face with annoyance. “Sort of,” she says, avoiding his gaze and stepping past him.

He almost collides with her back when she stops unexpectedly in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, balancing himself against her shoulder.

“I didn’t realise it was supposed to be a _Wizard of Oz_ themed night,” she says awkwardly.

“It’s not really. Sara just went over the top and told people what to wear,” he explains.

“Oh,” she says, not looking any less uncomfortable. “I must have missed the memo.”

He shrugs. “It’s Halloween. Pumpkin is always appropriate.”

She offers him a half-hearted smile. “I’ve heard there’s pie on the menu.”

“We are _drowning_ in it,” Jack confesses. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes please.”

By the time he has found her – and himself – a beer, and hobbled back to the living room on his CAM boot, she’s no longer in the room. Her bright orange costume, however, is clearly visible on the back deck.

“What are you doing out here in the cold?” he asks, sliding the door shut behind him as he joins her.

“This costume is pretty warm,” she says, accepting the beer and briefly meeting his gaze as they gently clink their bottles together.

For the first time since Jack started to get to know Sam, the silence between them is strained and awkward. The easy connection between them seems to have disappeared, and Jack’s fairly certain he knows what caused the disruption.

“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you,” he says awkwardly. “About Sara.”

She flicks him a brief glance before looking out over his dark yard again, staring into the shadows. “You don’t need to,” she says.

“I think I do,” he disagrees, still feeling uncomfortable. “We… you and I…”

“You don’t owe me anything, Jack,” she says, cutting him off. “You and I were friends. Are friends?”

He nods.

“You look happy, Jack,” she says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed.”

“It’s the meds,” he says before he can help himself. “And all the pie.”

She shoots him a look and rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. The air seems to soften between them, and he lets out a breath, taking a long drink of his beer.

“I wasn’t planning this,” he says, still feeling the need to explain. To apologise. To acknowledge to her that he was aware of the _something_ growing between them, and for being aware that he has chosen to end it before it could really begin.

“I realise that,” she says. “Can we just… can we not?” she asks.

“Okay.”

She takes a long draw on her on beer and then looks at him, a forced, polite smile on her face. “You’re right, it is cold out here.”

Wordlessly he opens the door back into the house, the hot air and gentle hum of conversation spilling out onto the deck between them.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he says.

“Yeah,” she says, walking past him. “Me too.”

\---

The heat of the house assaults her as soon as she’s inside, but it does little to take the aching chill out of her bones. She wasn’t lying to Jack — her costume _is_ warm — but now she’s struggling to shake off the chill that’s settled over her.

Daniel must have arrived while she was outside, and he comes over to drop an unexpected kiss on her cheek. Against her chilled skin, the touch is warm and she feels a small smile breaking free despite the heaviness of her mood.

“You made it,” she says, smiling at him.

“Miss a chance to dress up and eat pie? No way,” Daniel smiles. “Great costume!”

“Is it?” she asks humorlessly, tugging once again at the costume.

“Yeah, it’s clever. Pumpkin _Pi_!”

Over the last few weeks, Sam’s grown to really like Daniel, but she has never adored him quite as much as she does right now. She smiles at him, not protesting when he links his arm through hers and squeezes it briefly.

“Everyone want pie?” Sara asks, stepping into the living room.

“After all I’ve heard about this pie, there’s no way I’m going to say no,” Janet calls out with an affectionate glance over at Cassie who has already called out a very eager “Yes, please!”

Her bulky orange pumpkin costume dumped in the corner of the room, Sam squashes onto the armrest of Daniel’s sofa and accepts a plate from Cassie who’s very seriously making sure everyone gets a slice. It’s an unusual way to spend Halloween, Sam thinks as she takes a bite, but with the friendships she’s making and the people around her that she’s starting to care about, she wonders why more people don’t do this on Halloween.

The pie tastes like a forgotten part of her childhood, and the memories close up her throat, making it difficult to swallow. The sting of tears simmering too close to the surface after that awkward conversation with Jack warns her that she’s losing the fight with her emotions tonight. Casually, so as not to draw attention to herself, she slips off the sofa and wanders towards the kitchen, waving off a concerned enquiry with a measured “I’m okay, just spilled some cream on my sweater.”

The kitchen is blessedly silent, and surprisingly clean given the volume and variety of food Sara has produced. Sam makes her way over the to the sink and dabs at a random, clean spot on her sweater, dampening the fabric. The mindless activity gives her the space she needs, and she takes a moment to try and gather her thoughts and resolve.

“Are you okay?”

Sam turns to face Janet, trying to smile, but the smile is shaky and her eyes are still stinging.

“Oh, honey,” Janet says. “What’s wrong?”

Sam shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

For a moment she thinks Janet will persist, but then Janet steps forward and wraps her arms around Sam, surprising her with hug. It takes Sam a few seconds to relax, and then return the hug.

“Do you want to go home?” Janet asks, stepping back when Sam lets go of her.

“I don’t want to ruin Cassie’s evening.”

“You won’t. It’s late; I’m ready to take her home.”

As Janet drives them home, Sam considers the sparkly green wig now laying on her lap, fingering the crinkly ‘hair’ in contemplation.

“You okay?” Janet asks quietly when they pull to a stop out the front of Sam’s apartment; Cassandra is fast asleep on the back seat.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she says. “Just tired.”

“Did you have a good night?”

“If I forget about the pumpkin suit and bad wig, it wasn’t too bad,” Sam acknowledges. “Cassie even gave me a Reese's cup, so it was a better night than I expected.”

“I’m sorry Halloween isn’t your thing. And I’m sorry tonight was uncomfortable for you.”

Sam shrugs, fiddling with the wig on her lap. “My Mom died just after Halloween, so it hasn’t really been a holiday we’ve celebrated for a long, long time.”

“How about Thanksgiving?” Janet asks.

“We do that. It’s my brother’s birthday just before, so I normally spend it with him.”

“Will you go see him this year?”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen him for awhile.”

“Next Halloween,” Janet says reaching over and patting Sam’s knee, “I’ll be in a charge of your costume, and we’ll both take buckets. I don’t see why Cassie’s the only one who should get candy.”

Next year, Sam thinks as she climbs out of the car, she’s going to make sure she finds an airtight excuse to avoid Halloween, no matter how good Sara’s pie is, or how much candy Janet promises her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter caused me all sorts of headaches, and in the end I took the easy way out so the story would keep moving. That said, Chapters 7 - 11 are written, just need polishing and tidying up, so hopefully for the next few chapters things won't take as long anyway! I appreciate everyone's patience for sticking around, and I hope you keep enjoying this fic. It's slow, and a lot of build up is happening, but things will start to get more exciting soon I promise!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Nellie for the beta, and Sarah_M for the thoughtful comments and being my very own personal cheering squad. 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who is still following along and leaving such great comments!

His leg is still stiff and aches at the end of the day, but he’s been cleared by both Janet and the physiotherapists, and now Jack is raring to go. He raps on Hammond’s open door, and gets waved into his office.

“I see. Okay. Well, thank you for letting me know, Mr President. Yes sir, absolutely. Okay, thank you, sir. Goodbye, sir.” Hammond hangs up the phone and motions to the chair opposite, which Jack sinks into.

“Everything going well in the Oval Office?”

Hammond gives an odd little humph and sits back in his chair, surveying Jack. “Funny you should ask that, Jack.”

Jack’s known Hammond for almost a year, and in that time he’s grown to like and respect the man. The rare times Hammond has addressed him as an equal on duty, rather than a subordinate, has always suggested a brevity of occasion. Jack feels himself tense where he’s sitting in the chair opposite Hammond.

“I’m not going to like this, am I, sir?”

Hammond sits back. “I don’t know yet,” he admits. “The president has been getting some pushback regarding a secretive and substantial line item in the budget.”

“I’m assuming you mean the money needed to run this place?”

“Yes. Some senators pushing harder than others, and he’s under a lot of political pressure to give them clearance regarding the Stargate program sooner rather than later.”

“So more politicians involved,” Jack summarises.

“Yes,” Hammond agrees. “It’s also a matter of _which_ politicians.”

“Who?”

“A Senator Kinsey.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Currently Chief of the Appropriations Committee. He’s set to make a move for the presidency in a couple of years,” Hammond says with a sigh. “Ambitious.”

“In other words, likely to make life difficult for us?”

Hammond sighs again. “You could say that. I wanted you to be aware of what’s in the pipeline, Jack. We need to be above reproach, and we need to start showing some tangible gains and reasons to keep this program running, or risk being shut down.”

“They wouldn’t, would they?”

Hammond shrugs, and they sit for a minute in silence.

“I hear from Doctor Fraiser that you’ve been cleared for duty.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s get your team back together then, Colonel, and see if we can find something out there to justify our existence.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack says

\---

It’s been too long since she’s seen Mark. The move to Colorado a few years ago put a lot of distance between them, and Sam has struggled to bridge that space physically and mentally. It’s been almost a year since she saw him last, and Sam misses her brother. She’s looking forward to seeing him, and looking forward to some time away from the SGC which is still tangled in many confusing and mixed emotions.

He’s sitting by the side of the recreation court where she always finds him, a worn basketball clutched in his lap. His eyes are glued to the activity on the court where a wild game of basketball is well underway.

“Hey, stranger,” she calls out when she’s a few steps away.

His gaze snaps around to find her, eyes lighting up and a large smile breaking across his face.

“Sam!” he calls, grinning at her.

She leans down and hugs him hard, holding his stiff frame tightly in her arms for long minutes before pulling back. “Let me look at you,” she says, crouching down with her hands resting on his knees. “You look great, Mark! What have you been doing?”

“Ball,” he says cheerily, tipping his head toward the court beside him. He’s always been obsessed with basketball, and sits by the court day after day. She wonders, not for the first time, if he is aware of how much he has lost; she’s acutely aware of how much of him she’s lost.

“Looks like the weather’s been good,” she says, touching his tanned cheek and feeling the rough stubble of an unevenly shaved chin in her hand. There are several small scratches and cuts marring his skin. “Has Sophie been letting you shave yourself again?”

He nods proudly, still grinning at her. His left hand reaches towards her, slow and clumsy, and tugs the braid resting on her shoulder. “Hair?”

She follows the path of his hand with her own, and lifts the braid from her shoulder, until she can see the end of the dark hair. “Yeah, I dyed it a while ago,” she says, realising he hasn’t seen her with dark hair before. “Do you like it?”

“No,” he says simply, honest as always.

His stiff, clumsy fingers brush her cheek gently and rest against her jawbone. “Okay?” he asks, concern and unspoken worry in his eyes.

She holds his fingers with hers, and presses them against her cheek. “I’m fine now, Mark. I promise. I told you on the phone, I’m doing great. You can see that for yourself,” she whispers against his fingers.

“Safe,” he says.

She nods. “Yes, I am safe, Mark. I promise.”

His eyes, dark and bright as always, consider her for a moment, and she sees a spark of the old Mark she once knew, a hint of the keen intelligence and humor she’s been desperate to see since the car accident that stole a part of him and claimed her mother. She savors moments like these, when she gets a glimpse of the boy she used to know. His hand slips back to her hair, tugging. “Dad.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, confused.

“You,” he says, a lopsided grin on his face. “You, dad.” And he tugs her hair again.

A second later she gets what he’s saying, and a part of her is furious and another part is ecstatic that he’s trying to make a joke. “You think it makes me look like Dad?”

“Yes,” he says, still smiling his uneven smile.

How can she be angry with him, she thinks to herself, rolling her eyes and ruffling his hair as she stands up beside him, when he’s making a joke. “You’re funny,” she says dryly. “That is _not_ a compliment. Has Dad been to see you?”

“Yes,” Mark agrees. “Same.”

Jacob has always seen Mark three times a week, and it looks like nothing has changed for Mark, except Sam’s been visiting less.

“Come on,” she says. “Can I drag you away from the game and bust you out of here so we can get some real food?”

“Yes!” he says enthusiastically.

She walks beside him as he drives his electric wheelchair, ball still tucked under his arm. “Anywhere in particular you want to go?” It’s so easy to fall back into the old routine with him.

“Ball,” he says quickly.

Sam smiles. “Sure,” she says. “We can catch a game while I’m here. And Catherine wants us to go have dinner with her one night this week.”

He lets out a whooping sound of pleasure, and she ruffles his hair affectionately in a way that he hates because she’s missed him.

\---

They ease back into the mission roster with a couple of quick missions checking in with allies in the Land of Light and Argos. While Jack feels the impending pressure of validating the work of the SGC, he also knows it’s important to give his team time to settle into working together again To be successful, they need their rhythm back, and milk runs are an easy way to re-familiarise themselves with each other.

They’re back early from their mission to Argos; there’s enough time left for him to grab a shower before he heads home.

“O’Malley’s?” Daniel asks, while he’s tying his shoes. “Teal’c and Claire are in.”

“Oh,” Jack hesitates, cursing internally. He’d forgotten about their standing, informal team nights at O’Malley’s once a month, and had told Sara he’d be home for dinner.

“What’s wrong?” Daniel asks.

“Nothing,” Jack says.

“Forgot, huh?”

“I think Sara’s making lasagna.”

“So things are working out between you two?”

“Looks like it.”

“I’m happy for you, Jack,” Daniel says earnestly. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I think the lasagna will keep,” Jack says after a moment.

“It’s okay, we can do it another night.”

“No,” Jack says firmly, “it will be fine. Sara won’t mind.”

Sara does mind though; he can hear the disappointment clearly through the phone when he calls to say he won’t be home for dinner. It dredges up familiar feelings of guilt at once again not doing the right thing by Sara. He almost invites her to the team night because of that guilt, and then stops himself —this is his life now, and these evenings are an important part of his life. It’s not fair to his team for him to pull back.

He’s still mulling over this new, undefined relationship with Sara when he arrives home late that night. The porch light is on, and the light on his side of the bed is burning. Sara is in bed, facing away from him, but he knows her well enough to know she’s not asleep.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, because he is sorry that he’s hurt her again. He’s sorry that he’s not giving her what she needs, but he’s starting to wonder if she’s trying to find something they both lost when they lost Charlie. He’s not sure he can give her that now anymore than he could before.

He climbs in beneath the covers, warm from her heat, and tentatively slides an arm around her waist. There’s a fractured moment before she slips her hand over his, tangling their fingers together and holds his hand pressed against her stomach. He kisses the soft skin of her neck, and buries his face against her hair, breathing her in and holding her close.

\---

When Sam gets back to the SGC, she finds Tobias in her lab rifling through her paperwork. Tobias looks up, surprised, and at least has the grace to look a bit uncomfortable.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks.

“Hammond wants us to cut down on expenditure, and the biggest drain on our budget is the inefficiency of your dialling programs and protocols,” Tobias says abruptly.

The words sting; Sam knows the dialling program could be faster and more efficient. It’s been on the project list for months to try and create a better program rather than the patched up tangle of code that currently exists. However, with the gate in constant use there’s never been an ideal opportunity to pull the systems offline and upload a new program.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my lab, going through my work.”

Tobias meets her gaze defiantly. “You weren’t here.”

“It’s not that difficult to make a phone call or send an email.”

“I didn’t want to disturb your holiday, Doctor.”

“So instead you’d invade my privacy?”

“This is a defense installation, Doctor, and you are a civilian. You have no privacy here.”

Sam has tried hard not to be envious of Claire Tobias. She’s tried even harder not to dislike Tobias because she hasn’t been able to banish the envy completely, but it hasn’t been easy. This invasion of Sam’s privacy, and the thinly veiled insult to her work feels like a knife is being stuck into her chest. Sam is reeling at the audacity and gall.

“I believe you are wrong,” a solid voices says from behind Sam’s shoulder.

Tobias stares at him defiantly, raising her chin. “Stay out of this, Teal’c.”

“I believe you owe Doctor Carter an apology for disrespecting her privacy,” Teal’c says instead, standing beside Sam.

Sam wants to bite her lip and look away, to escape the tension suddenly apparent between the two teammates.

“I’m doing my job, Teal’c, and following orders,” Tobias argues. “I don’t owe her anything.”

“General Hammond ordered you to go through my lab?” Sam asks incredulously.

Tobias hesitates.

“I do not believe General Hammond would condone such a breach of privacy,” Teal’c says gravely.

“What are you hiding in here anyway that you’re so scared I’ll find?” Tobias demands.

Once, Sam would have stammered, held up her hands and backed away, intimidated and uncertain of herself. Now, however, she’s angry and upset, and the knowledge that Teal’c is standing beside her, supporting her over his teammate lends her strength and confidence.

“I’m not hiding anything, Claire,” she says coldly. “General Hammond knows about every project that I’m working on, but it’s _my_ work, and I’m not under any obligation to share it with you. Please, put my papers back where you found them and get out of my lab.”

Tobias continues to stand behind her desk, holding on the papers as though weighing up the potential consequences of not listening to Sam.

Beside her, Sam can feel Teal’c’s presence. She is grateful to have him standing beside her, but for the first time that Sam can remember, she realises that she wants to sort this out herself. She appreciates his support, but she doesn’t want him to fight her battle for her.

“Put my papers down, Claire, and get out. Please.”

Tobias hesitates again, and then puts the papers down. “Don’t get too comfortable here, Doctor Carter. The Colonel has his wife back now, so he doesn’t need you anymore. Unless he likes a little something extra on the side.”

She knocks roughly into Sam’s shoulder as she storms past, and Sam staggers into Teal’c who gently holds her arms for balance, and that fragile inner peace she’d worked so hard to restore in DC shatters.

There’s anger and shame burning in her, and any previous admiration and envy she felt for Tobias crumbles into resentment. She pushes away from Teal’c, and walks into her lab silently, slamming her hands down on the bench in frustration.

“Lieutenant Tobias was acting without honor,” Teal’c comments from the doorway.

“You’re not wrong,” Sam agrees, picking up the pages Tobias had scattered over her desk. It takes little more than a glance to confirm her suspicions. “She was planning on stealing my work, Teal’c. These papers are the basis for the updated dialling program and increased security parameters. She knew I was working on it, and knew I was planning to organise a shutdown in the next few weeks to get this installed; I even asked for her opinion on some of the hardware.”

“That is indeed dishonorable,” Teal’c agrees quietly.

Sam drops the papers onto the desk and presses her palms back onto the edge of her bench.

“Colonel O’Neill-”

“ _Colonel O’Neill_ does not need to know about this,” Sam interrupts.

“Lieutenant Tobias is a member of his team, and he would wish to know-”

“Teal’c,” Sam says, finally turning to look at him. “Just leave it, okay? This is between Tobias and myself. I don’t want to drag Jack into this.”

“As you wish, Doctor Carter.”

She tries not to let the disappointment in his voice add to the burn in her stomach.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you to the amazing Nellie for the beta, and thank you so much to everyone for the amazing comments and support on this story. Your patience between updates is amazing, so thank you very much for hanging in there with me!

It’s been three days of hell: losing Daniel on a seemingly abandoned planet, and then finding him again on the floor in a room Jack himself had searched only five minutes earlier was not a great start to the week. Things went from bad to worse with Daniel spouting off about alternate realities (and engagements to Sam), followed by the arrival of Kinsey. And just like that the proverbial rug is yanked from beneath their feet and the program is being shut down, leaving him full of anger and disbelief.

He gets home to find Sara has made chicken pot pie and has turned his dining room table into a disaster zone of scrap paper, glue and glitter. He snatches a guinness out of the fridge and stalks up the ladder onto his viewing deck, furious when he realises the clouds will obscure his vision and Sara has strung Christmas lights around the railing. He sits down anyway, trying to cool down his mood with the icy temperatures and cold beer, but the bitter wind polishes the sheen of his rage and strips away his warmth until he admits defeat and makes his way back inside.

“Tough couple of days?” Sara asks, handing him another guinness.

He grunts at her, takes the guinness, and disappears into the living room without further explanation.

Sara, years of experience with his moods, tactically avoids him and doesn’t even prompt him to have some of the tantalising dinner he can smell over his Guinness. Her understanding of his mood, and giving him the space he needs just fuels the flames of his rage. He’s looking for a fight, desperate for a reason to snap and blow out all this pent up anger and frustration.

He stays in the living room, listening to the sound of Sara cleaning the kitchen, the soft tread of her footsteps as she retreats to the bedroom, and the stillness of the house as she turns in for the evening. With the silence around him it feels like he can breathe again. The band of tightness that’s been crushing him eases off infinitesimally, and he tries desperately to focus his thoughts.

The Stargate program is being shut down.

Teal’c is stranded on Earth.

Daniel is convinced the Goa’uld are coming.

Two more days until all the SGC teams are back, and then the doors will be sealed shut.

He pours himself a liberal amount scotch and settles back into his sofa, staring at the Christmas tree, half-formed ideas swirling around like the snowflakes now blowing around his window.

The next morning he wakes up with a dull headache and dry, gritty eyes to the sound of Sara making breakfast. He sits in the chair for long moments until the scent of fresh coffee and bacon tempt him into the kitchen.

Sara is in her nightgown, slippers and thick flannel pajamas, busy at the stove. She reaches over and hands him a strong, dark coffee without breaking her rhythm. Jack seats himself silently at the table and watches her as she moves around the kitchen, a familiar sight, soothing in its domesticity.

She doesn’t speak until she puts a plate in front of him and fills up their coffee again, sitting beside him with her own plate.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

They eat their breakfast in silence, and despite the hot food and silent company, Jack doesn’t feel that the emptiness inside is being filled.

“I got our Halloween and Thanksgiving photos back yesterday,” Sara says eventually, breaking the silence.

Jack doesn’t feel like speaking, but sometimes just listening to Sara talking at him can bring him down from his dark thoughts.

“I thought it might be nice to do a little scrapbook of Cassie, for her first year here in the Springs,” she says conversationally. “I called Janet and she dropped some photos off for me to use, of just after Cassie arrived. Do you think she’d like that as a Christmas gift?”

“Yeah.”

“Here, have a look at this.”

She disappears from his side for a few moments, and returns to stand close beside him so he can feel the warmth of her against his side. “I got these two enlarged to frame, but I’m not sure which one to choose.”

There’s a shot from Halloween, with everyone grouped together. He finds himself smiling at the picture despite the darkness of his mood when he catches sight of Sam and her “Pumpkin Pi” costume, standing awkwardly to the side of the remainder of the group, all dressed as the _Wizard of Oz_ characters.

Yeah, I like that one too,” Sara says, seeing his gaze resting on that photo. “It’s just a pity Sam’s costume doesn’t match the rest of ours. We should have gotten one without her in it. The Thanksgiving one is nice too.”

“This one,” Jack says pushing the Halloween one toward her. “She needs Sam in it.”

“Are you sure? That costume…”

“Cassie _loves_ Sam,” Jack says sharply. “That costume is fine. It’s Halloween, not a cast photo, Sara.”

Sara stares at him for a moment, not quick enough to hide the hurt in her eyes, and turns away from him. “I’ll frame the Halloween one for her,” she says quietly.

“It’s a good idea,” Jack says gruffly, an inefficient apology. “It’s a good photo, with everyone in it.”

He helps her clean the kitchen after breakfast, showers, and leaves with a brief kiss on her cheek. She smiles at him but he can see a shadow in her eyes and a long familiar tension that’s back around her lips.

\---

There’s a crazy, half-formed idea that he just can’t shake solidifying in his mind. He collects Tobias, and drags her up to Daniel’s lab where he finds the guys, along with Sam. His first instinct is to make up an excuse for her to leave, but a missing piece of the plan locks into place as he looks at her.

He pulls the door shut, and lays out his idea.

“Sir, this could end my career.”

“I know, Tobias. It’s why I’m not ordering you to go.”

“I’ll go,” Daniel says quickly. “It’s not like they can kick me out the Air Force.”

“I too will accompany you, O’Neill.”

He looks at Tobias and sees the reluctance in her eyes; really, it’s not a surprise that she’s not sticking with the team, he’d suspected all along she wouldn’t be willing to lay it on the line. It’s why he’s pleased to have Sam here as the answer to his dilemma.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s okay, Tobias,” he says, but it’s not really okay, because it’s another little crack in the foundation of their team, with Tobias splintering away in one direction while he and the guys move in another. He wonders how long it will be before it starts to impact on the team dynamic. “Tobias, you better go so you don’t have to lie when they ask you what you know.”

She nods abruptly and says a quick “Good luck” before leaving without looking back.

“I’ll go,” Sam announces unexpectedly as the door closes behind Tobias. “I’m not Air Force either, so I’m not disobeying direct orders.”

The rush of affection and pride is quick, and he looks at this woman who would give so much and yet expects so little. “I know,” he smiles. “But I need you here, to dial us out and block anyone from chasing us. I can’t ask Tobias to do that.”

The look she gives him lets him know that she’s aware he’s protecting her, pushing her away from the frontlines and danger, without making her seem incapable.

“I can do that and still go through the gate,” she insists.

“I know, Sam,” he says. “But I need you here. Someone needs to keep the door open for us, and you’re it.”

He’s not lying about that. He trusts her more than he trusts his own teammate at the moment, and he finds himself relieved that Tobias has elected to remain behind.

Sam’s not happy about her assignment, but she sighs in acceptance. “You better make sure you come home.”

He smiles at her, ignoring the impulse to reach over and touch her shoulder.

Their conference is quick and to the point, plans laid, and within an hour he’s pausing on the threshold of the gate, waving up at the lone figure sitting in the control room before he steps through.

\---

From her seat at the control station, Sam watches the three men of SG-1 hurry up the ramp. Two step through quickly, but Jack hesitates on the threshold and turns to wave briefly at her before he steps through. The bright blue glow of the wormhole washes over the control room for long seconds after he’s disappeared.

Around her, alarms are blaring and there’s a rush of footsteps as a pack of Airmen burst into the control room.

Below, the wormhole snaps shut and plunges the gate room into darkness. The Stargate is a silent, dark ring in the shadows and Sam wonders if she’ll ever see another wormhole or get the chance to travel through one.

It’s not until Hammond appears, looking weary and worried before her, that Sam starts to feel a little trickle of worry at the consequences of her actions. By the time she’s read the riot act by Hammond and told she’s under house arrest, she’s wondering if maybe it wouldn’t have been safer to go with SG-1.

Sam’s lying on the bed in the small room she’s been detained in, staring at the bland grey ceiling when the door opens. She sits up when General Hammond enters the room, followed by two men she recognises as Colonels Samuels and Maybourne.

“I’m sorry, Doctor Carter,” Hammond says quietly.

She’s about to ask him what he’s apologising for, when Colonel Maybourne speaks. “Are you Doctor Samantha Carter?” he asks formally.

“Yes.”

“And did you, Samantha Carter, willingly aid and abet Colonel Jonathan O’Neill, Doctor Daniel Jackson, and the Jaffa Teal’c in accessing and dialling the Stargate, after it had been legally decommissioned and Stargate travel officially prohibited by the Government of the United States of America?”

Her mouth is dry, and her throat feels tight. “Yes,” she whispers.

“Then I hereby place you under arrest for treason against the United States of America.”

_Treason_.

There’s a loud ringing in her ears and her vision wavers dangerously.

“This way please, ma’am,” an Airman is saying, his hand resting firmly on her shoulder guiding her towards the door.

They take her to the brig, despite Hammond advocating to let her stay in the small room she’d been detained in. The brig is bare and cold, and the metal bars leave her exposed to the guards standing at attention outside the cell. She’s been stripped of her personal belongings and given an olive green jumpsuit to wear; there’s no way to tell how much time has passed. The young Airmen seem reluctant to answer too many questions, as though her charge of treason is contagious and may paint them with suspicion too.

Eventually a door opens and General Hammond walks back into the room. For the first time since Sam met him, he looks defeated. “Doctor Carter,” he says, and sighs heavily.

Sam closes her eyes, aware of what is coming.

“It’s okay, General,” she says.

“Leave us,” he commands the guards. After they’ve exited the room, he steps closer to her and rests his hand on one of the bars. “I will do everything in my power to help you, Doctor Carter,” he says vehemently.

She appreciates his effort, and wraps a reassuring hand around the one holding onto the bars. “Thank you, General,” she says. “Don’t worry about me. You need to worry about getting SG-1 home. They’re in more danger than I am right now.”

He looks at her oddly, considering. His scrutiny makes her feel as though she has said something silly or confusing.

“You need to understand, Doctor Carter, that I may not be able to help you. I may not be able to get you out of this. You may end up spending the remainder of your life in prison, or finding yourself on death row. You _are_ in very real danger, and there are a lot of political powers at play over which I have no control.”

When Jack had laid his plan out for them, it had seemed so simple, and so honorable in its intentions: go through the gate, stop the invasion. Worst case, let Teal’c get to his home while he still could.

Not once had she truly considered the ramifications of her decision to help—how disregarding a clear directive could result in lifelong imprisonment. A slap on the wrist, sure. Some job insecurity definitely, but Teal’c and Earth were worth that.

This sudden, terrifying imprisonment and the reality that she is being accused of treason… she had never even paused to consider this, and considering all the variables is something that Sam prides herself on. The few times in her life she ignored the variables and jumped in with both feet—every single one of those times had ended in disaster.

Sam closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the bars. General Hammond, still standing with her, gives her hand a subtle squeeze as the door opens and the Airmen return, accompanied by Colonel Samuels.

“Don’t lose hope,” Hammond orders quietly.

As they lead her from the brig and through the quiet SGC she struggles to hold onto the belief that somehow, this will all work out.

\---

She’s taken into one of the interrogation rooms, and the metal cuffs around her wrists are secured to the table in front of her. The sight of them—bright and cold—is terrifying in the reality they convey to her: this is real.

Colonel Samuels and Colonel Maybourne enter the room and take seats opposite her. They smell strongly of cigarette smoke, and she feels her skin crawl with the way they are looking at her.

The silence stretches on until eventually Sam wonders if this is some form of torture. Are they hoping she will confess if she breaks and speaks first?

“Samantha,” Colonel Samuels begins.

“Doctor Carter,” she corrects him sharply, angry that they have taken her freedom and would also take her title.

“Doctor Carter,” Maybourne says smoothly, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply, before looking at her.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke in here,” Sam tells him.

He chuckles, and takes another deep drag from his cigarette. “I’m Colonel Maybourne,” he says, as though he doesn’t remember Sam from his visit to the SGC when he wanted the Tollan. “I work for the NID.”

“NID?” Sam asks, stalling for time.

“National Intelligence Department.”

“Like spying? Isn’t that what the CIA is for?”

He laughs again, the sound is harsh and false as it echoes around the room. “No,” he says when the silence stretches again. “It’s a branch of the US Government, run by civilians, in order to oversee military and defense installations in the interests of disclosure and moderation.”

“I’m not in the military,” Sam points out, “so what do you want with me?”

He nods approvingly. “You’re very quick to make connections, Doctor Carter,” he says, not answering her question.

“So what do you want me with me?” she repeats.

Maybourne takes another long drag from his cigarette, studying her. “They led me to believe you were a bit of a shrinking violet,” he says eventually. “I wasn’t expecting you to be quite so… forthright.”

Sam can’t help but agree with him - who is she, this woman who is angry and fighting instead of letting her vulnerabilities take control. Where has this woman who is asking questions and demanding answers come from?

“I heard you didn’t have any backbone,” Maybourne continues. “Rumor has it you got yourself knocked around regularly by your fiance, and didn’t leave until he put you in hospital.”

Sam’s fingers clench involuntarily on the desk between them. Maybourne catches the movement and smiles, satisfied.

“Have a bit of a thing for the dark, violent kind. A bit of a thing for the kind the special forces has fucked up and left a broken, volatile mess, don’t you?”

“What’s your point?” Sam demands, furious with him for dragging up her past and her weakness.

“O’Neill’s no different than Hanson,” Maybourne says quietly.

“He’s _nothing_ like Jonas,” Sam spits out before she can restrain herself.

That satisfied, smug smile grows wider. “Oh, but he is,” Maybourne disagrees. “Special forces, violent behaviour, unpredictable. Not particularly devoted or faithful to his women.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam asks, not certain she wants the answer.

“Oh, surely you know Captain Hanson wasn’t faithful to you,” Maybourne says.

Sam had suspected multiple times over the years that Jonas had cheated, but there had never been evidence, and she hadn’t been stupid enough to question Jonas’ fidelity to his face. The idea that Jack, however, would betray someone like that seems irreconcilable with the man that she knows.

“Just come out and say it,” Sam says, tiring of the game he wants play.

“Well, I know that you’re aware O’Neill has taken back up with his wife again,” Maybourne points out, watching her.

“Yes.”

“How did that make you feel, being pushed to the side for someone else?”

Sam stares at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please,” Maybourne says, waving his hand. “Are you trying to tell me you and O’Neill weren’t involved? Aren’t still involved?”

She laughs at that, and she can tell Maybourne is disconcerted by her response, despite the ache in her chest that blossoms at his assumptions.

“What do you want with me?” she asks again, her laughter drying up but the ache deepening in the silence.

“As you know, the Stargate program has been shut down for various reasons. A large part of that was is due to the fact that because a military organization is operating the Stargate, there is very little transparency or moderation of the program.”

“You’re Air Force,” Sam points out. “What are you doing in a civilian agency?”

“The NID is overseen by a civilian committee,” Maybourne explains. “It doesn’t mean it’s exclusively civilian, the same way the Stargate program as it previously operated wasn’t exclusively military, despite being overseen by the Air Force.”

“And?”

“The Stargate won’t stay offline forever,” Maybourne says simply. “It will be re-opened by the NID.”

“And?”

“You’re the leading expert on the Stargate, Doctor Carter.”

“And I’m also in jail,” Sam points out, rattling her wrists for effect.

“That doesn’t have to be an issue,” Maybourne says.

Sam studies him, watching as he stubs out his cigarette and leans back in his chair, considering her now that his cards are laid out on the table.

“What are you proposing?”

“We’re going to need someone with your expertise,” he begins, but as he’s speaking the door to the cell opens and a harried young Airman steps in. He talks quietly, so Sam can’t make out what he’s saying, but the tightening of Maybourne’s lips and the look of panic on Samuels’ face would suggest whatever news he has brought is not good.

Maybourne pushes his chair back abruptly and stands.

“What’s happening?” Sam asks.

“They’re here,” Samuels says, before being cut off by Maybourne shaking his head sharply at him.

“We’ll talk again later, Doctor Carter.”

They leave her in alone in the room, chained to a table, with the suspicion that the Goa’uld have arrived. She has no idea whether Jack and the guys are safe. Given that the Goa’uld are now here, it’s unlikely she’ll ever find out if they are okay.

Later, when she’s lying on the bunk in her cell, staring at the chipped and worn ceiling above her head, she wonders if she’ll even be aware if they attack. She wonders if the end of the world will come quickly, or slowly.

She never thought she would die in prison.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Nellie for the beta, and to all my lovely friends who have been there for me over the last few weeks when things have been difficult.
> 
> To those of you still following along, thanks for your patience, and as always I apologise for the length between updates.

Jack wants nothing more than to be outside, even in the freezing cold and bitter winds of winter. The days spent in the shuttle coming back to Earth, followed by a tense visit to Washington involving three days of facing dour-faced Generals, a furious Kinsey and a serious President are starting to take their toll. Two hours ago he was officially pardoned by the President, released from custody, and then congratulated on thwarting the enemy. Now Jack is ready to shoot the next person who wants to talk to him about what just happened.

Teal’c and Bra’tac, also freshly released from custody and looking out of place in the hallways of the Pentagon, appear as ragged and worn as he is by the interrogations and accusations they have received.

“There’s a transport waiting for us at the airstrip,” Jack says without preamble. “Let’s get out of here.”

The flight back to Colorado is blissfully devoid of talking. As bumpy and rough as it is, he finds the rattling drone of the aircraft soothing on his frayed nerves.

Nearly home.

Away from the politics and the power plays and the crap blowing around the capitol, Jack finally feels some of the tension that has been building since they landed at Kennedy start to dissipate. The tension is replaced by an ache, sharp and fierce and bitterly familiar; an echo of the grief he feels for Charlie.

Daniel is gone. Daniel, a man Jack never thought he would like, let alone grow to respect and admire and even love as a brother.

And they’ve just spent the last three days in Washington justifying their actions, justifying breaking orders — justifying saving the planet — to politicians and power mongers with no idea of what true sacrifice means.

The ache of the grief is obliterated by a rage of fury, and his fists clench tightly against his seat; any hope of catching a nap is destroyed by the anger coursing through him.

An unexpected jostle of turbulence knocks him out of his thoughts, and he opens his eyes to find Teal’c regarding him. He’s thankful for the noise and the distance between them, and deliberately closes his eyes again, not wanting to talk.

He can’t wait for the peace and quiet of Colorado, and the silence of his home.

Home.

Sara is probably still at his house. He checks the date on his wrist watch, and grimaces - it’s been almost two weeks since he left home, and she had no idea he was going on a mission. No idea that he was going to be disappearing off the face of planet - quite literally, as it turned out.

He sighs, tipping his head back again, this time in frustration, and closes his eyes.

Maybe home isn’t the best place right now. Maybe his quarters on base would be a good place to go until he can get his head around Daniel’s loss, and the complete bullshit he’s just been put through after risking his neck to save the planet.

Except it turns out that the base isn’t as quiet as he’d hoped. Apparently the appearance of two Goa’uld ships resulted in a dramatic change in policy no one in Washington had bothered to tell Jack about. He finds the base fully staffed, and many of the personnel gathered in the gateroom giving them a hero’s welcome. He grits his teeth and smiles, knowing these are good people who appreciate what he and his team have done, but all he wants is a quiet corner, a scotch, and the chance to be alone with his grief.

Hammond appears at the front of the crowd, face unreadable, and Jack feels a flicker of true remorse at having disobeyed this man’s directive. Hammond is the last person Jack wanted to disappoint.

“Well done, Jack,” Hammond says quietly, tipping his head at him with a small smile. “And thank you. All of you,” he says, looking at Teal’c and Master Bra’tac. “Master Bra’tac, words cannot express our gratitude to you, and to the assistance you have given us.”

“You are Hammond of Texas?”

“I am.”

Bra’tac harrumphs. “Your warriors have served you well this day, Hammond of Texas.”

“I know,” Hammond agrees solemnly.

“I must return home before word of our rebellion reaches Chulak.”

Jack watches the goodbye between Teal’c and his mentor, and turns back to Hammond as Bra’tac is led away. He wants to get this over with now, so that he can retire in the peace and quiet of his quarters.

A familiar movement and flash of hair catches his attention in the crowd, and he feels a fresh stab of grief. He remembers this when Charlie died, thinking he caught sight of him in all sorts of strange places, when really it was just desperation driving him to see things that weren’t there.

“I think there’s someone here that you’ll be quiet happy to see,” Hammond says, smiling broadly.

And then that familiar flash is right there in front of him, real, living and breathing. He’s stunned for a second, and then a well of emotion erupts. He grabs hold of Daniel, dragging him into a hug.

“Uh, hi?” Daniel says, grinning back a bit self-consciously and pushing his glasses back onto his nose.

“Spacemonkey,” Jack mutters, still grinning at him. “How?”

“Sarcophagus, and then gated to alpha site,” Daniel replies.

Jack ruffles his hair again one more time, grinning, suddenly feeling like joining in the celebrations after all.

He has one thing left to do first though.

“I owe you an apology, sir,” he says quietly to Hammond.

“No, Jack, you don’t,” Hammond says. “You did the right thing.”

“Sir, I disobeyed a direct order, whether you-”

“Jack,” Hammond interrupts, “don’t argue about this. You’ve been cleared. You did the right thing, son, and I am grateful to you and thankful that you had the courage to make the right decision.”

Jack nods, still not quite believing there is no fallout from their decision to blatantly ignore the orders, outcomes be damned.

“There is one thing you need to be aware of, Colonel, regarding Doctor Carter.”

“Where is Sam?” Jack asks, not having seen her in the crowd.

“Yeah,” Daniel says, face serious. “About that.”

“What do you mean, _about that_?” Jack asks.

“Doctor Carter was taken into custody shortly after helping you and your team access the Stargate,” Hammond explains.

“And?”

“She’s still in custody, Jack.”

“What the hell do you mean she’s still in custody?”

“She’s been charged with treason, and they’re holding her at a federal prison.”

“Treason?” Jack demands. “What kind of crap is that?”

Hammond sighs. “At the time, Colonel, you and your team had disobeyed a direct order, and illegally obtained access to the Stargate which was no longer authorised for activity. Doctor Carter was responsible for gaining you access to the Stargate, and activating it. They’re claiming that she committed treason by helping yourselves, and particularly Teal’c, to collude with the alien species for the attack.”

Some of the accusations and endless interrogations in Washington are suddenly starting to make sense, Jack realizes.

“So why is she still in custody? We’ve been cleared, you said that yourself.”

“She’s a civilian, Jack, and civilian protocol is different from ours.”

“What about the President?”

“He’s been informed, Colonel, but these things take time.”

A dull, pounding headache is forming behind Jack’s eyes, and the joy from moments ago is fast turning to anger and disbelief.

“We’re working as fast as we can, Colonel.”

“Where’s she being held?” he demands.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” General Hammond says. “You were lucky enough to get away with what you just did.”

“I’m not planning anything, except giving her a ride home when they let her out of there,” Jack says roughly.

“I’ll go with you,” Daniel offers quickly.

“I too will accompany you, O’Neill.”

Jack looks at Hammond, who sighs. “Let me make a phone call.”

_\---_

It’s Christmas Eve when the Warden appears at her cell and opens the door. She’s surprised to see him this late in the day - it’s well past the evening meal, and she’s already had her recreation hour. In the days since Maybourne and Samuels left there’s been no news to suggest an impending invasion. No word of an attack. Not even a whisper to say that everything was okay. Instead, it’s been waiting waiting waiting, and she’s tired of waiting and not knowing what’s happening.

“Come on, Carter,” he says, standing back, waiting for her to get up.

“What’s happening?”

“You’re being released,” he says, as though he’s telling her it’s time for dinner and not giving her freedom back to her.

“I’m what?”

“The charges against you have been dropped.”

He hands her a brown paper bag and ushers her through to a room where he leaves her on her own. In the bag, she finds slacks and a sweater - the clothes she was wearing on the day of her arrest, she realises, fingering the soft cotton thoughtfully.

It doesn’t take her long to change, leaving the uncomfortable jumpsuit behind, and letting the Warden lead her to freedom.

She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but it’s definitely not a tired, rumpled looking Jack O’Neill with a thick five o’clock shadow and a leather jacket across his shoulders. His head is tipped back against the wall and his eyes are closed as though he’s sleeping, but she doesn’t think he’s the type of man who’s likely to sleep in public places so easily.

“Here you go, Colonel O’Neill,” the Warden announces.

He opens his eyes slowly and looks at her, his eyes doing a quick sweep as though to reassure himself that she is whole and well in front of him. She wants to shift under his gaze, twist out of sight, but there is nowhere to hide from him and she’s so very tired of being vulnerable, particularly with regards to this man.

“Ready?” he asks.

She shrugs, and he gets to his feet, tipping his head at the Warden before heading to the main doors.

Outside the wind is bitter, and snow is piled on the sidewalk. The loafers Sam is wearing are not designed for this weather, and her sweater is no protection against the biting wind, but she revels in the cold and gusty weather, breathing in freedom and icy air and letting the vastness of it splinter in her lungs. She throws her head back, looking for the stars, but the sky above them is a dark shadow, blotted by streetlights and wood smoke. She wasn’t sure she would ever see it again.

“Here.”

His jacket is warm over her shoulders and smells like him, a scent she remembers from long ago times at the gun range when they might have been becoming something that never stood a chance.

“You’ll get cold,” she says, his sweater offering him little more protection against the weather than hers had.

“Truck’s that way,” he says instead, hand on the small of her back guiding her to the right.

Short minutes later, they’re huddling in his truck, hands over the heaters in a desperate attempt to warm their icy skin against the lukewarm efforts of the car not long started. Eventually the cab warms up, and the windows fog against the ice on the outside. Her hands are stinging as the warmth returns to them, feet wet and cold still, but the blast of hot air against them assures her that soon she will warm up completely.

“I take it you saved the world then?” she asks, not looking at him. It infuriates her that she has no idea what happened. Locked in her cell, forgotten by the SGC, isolated from anything except a hurried conversation with Maybourne and Samuels. No visitors, no updates, no contact. Nothing.

“It was close.”

Outside, small snowflakes are starting to gust around the cab, flickering and glowing briefly in the headlights before they’re whipped out of sight. She was supposed to be in Washington already, snug in Catherine’s house with her brother to share the holidays. Her flight left three days ago, without her on it, and she hasn’t even been able to call Mark to tell him _why_.

“What time is it?”

“Almost 2100,” he says, buckling himself him and putting the truck in reverse.

Too late to call Mark now and let him know she’s okay, that she’ll try to get there as soon as she can.

“It _is_ Christmas Eve, isn’t it?” she asks, hoping maybe she got her days muddled up.

“Yeah.”

She closes her eyes as he starts down the icy roads, feeling the lingering fingers of oppression slip from around her throat as they drive farther and farther from the prison. When she finally opens her eyes, they’re no longer in town; outside her window is dark with the shadow of trees whipping past as they fly down the highway.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he says.

She shrugs, and closes her eyes again, enjoying not knowing where she is.

It’s only a few minutes later when he pulls to a stop, engine still idling. His touch on her hand startles her, and she opens her eyes.

“Take a look,” he says.

He’s driven them to a small lookout nestled in the foothills. Scattered snowflakes are still whipping around them, and the beams of his headlights struggle to cut much beyond the safety barrier in front of them.

“What am I looking at?”

“What we saved,” he says reverently, and as though he has willed it there is a brief break in the clouds and the soft lights of Colorado Springs are visible below them, glowing against the snow and the dark shadows of the landscape. The scene only lasts briefly before the view is obscured again by mist and snow.

He’s still staring out at the emptiness, and she realises this drive has been as much for him as it has been for her. She feels a touch of remorse at the angry thoughts she has been harboring towards him, the blame she was piling at his feet for something that was her choice. She reaches over to touch his hand.

“Was it bad?” she asks quietly.

“I thought Daniel was dead,” he says, closing his eyes and leaning back in the seat.

Her heart thumps painfully in her chest. She wraps her fingers around his wrist and rubs her thumb against his pulse, watching him.

“He was dying. He was supposed to be dead.”

Her heart aches at the thought of losing Daniel, and she squeezes his fingers. He squeezes back, the silence dragging out for minutes.

“But he’s alive?” she asks.

“Yeah. Damn spacemonkey,” he mutters. “Found a sarcophagus and gated to the Alpha site.”

It occurs to her that maybe not knowing wasn’t as bad as she had thought. She couldn’t stand to think of Daniel or Jack or Teal’c dying, or believing them to be dead.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes.”

But Jack’s not okay, Sam’s realizing. Something is bothering him. She waits, silent, following his lead and watching the swirling weather outside as it steadily increases in tempo.

“We left him behind,” Jack says eventually, his fingers clutching against her painfully. “He was dying, and we left him behind to finish the mission.”

“But he’s alive, and he’s okay.”

Jack breathes in sharply, eyes closed now, reliving his own personal hell. “I broke the first rule,” he admits. “Never leave a man behind. I left him behind, knowing he was still alive.”

“How does Daniel feel about that?” Sam wonders.

To her surprise, Jack barks out a harsh laugh. “Oh, you know Daniel. He’s all noble and practical when he wants to be. He _told_ us to go. He knew he was dying, and he told us to go so he wouldn’t be a liability. Damn archeologist is turning into a soldier.”

Sam’s stomach turns, and once again she finds she is grateful that she wasn’t there, and didn’t know what was happening. She’s not sure she could be as noble as Daniel, as willing to sacrifice herself as he was.

“So he’s not angry at you?”

“No.”

“Then why are you…?”

The silence between them stretches for a long time. Sam is desperately analyzing the little she has been told, trying to understand why Jack is so upset, and coming up miserably short.

“I was left behind once,” Jack confesses eventually. “I promised myself I’d never leave anyone behind to go through what I went through. And I left _Daniel_ behind. Of all the people I could leave behind, I left _Daniel_.”

She wants to ask where he was left behind, and what happened, what he went through to put those shadows on his face. But his gaze is far away again, so she stays quiet and continues to hold his hand. Long minutes pass, and outside the snow storm is picking up its pace.

Eventually he sighs, squeezes her fingers, and lets go of her hand.

“We better get going, or we’ll be stranded here.”

The drive back to town takes longer than it should; the storm is building and visibility dropping.

“Looks like it’s going to be good cover for tomorrow,” he comments, slowly navigating around a corner. “Do you have plans?”

“I did,” she says shortly, guilt and disappointment and anger curdling in her belly as she pictures Mark sitting by himself in the group home, maybe a cold and stiff dinner at a local restaurant with their father if he’s lucky.

“Not anymore?”

“My flight to Washington left three days ago.”

“Your brother is there, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“You should come to my place tomorrow,” Jack offers. “Daniel and Teal’c are both coming, and I think Fraiser said she’d bring Cassie.”

“Thanks, Jack, but I’m going to pass. I’m going to see if I can find a flight tomorrow once the airport is open.”

“We’ll be there all day,” he says. “You could even stay tonight if you wanted.”

“Thanks, but I just want my own space.”

“I get that,” he accepts.

She doesn’t linger when he drops her off, and it’s only when she steps into her apartment, cold and dark, that she realises she’s still wearing his jacket.

\---

He’s not really surprised to see most of the lights are still on in his house when he arrives, even though it’s almost midnight. He’s even less surprised to see Sara curled up on the sofa with her knees tucked up under her chin, staring at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” he says, crossing over to the fireplace and stretching out his hands. He’s left his jacket with Sam, and the quick dash from his truck to the house was bitterly cold in the snow and wind.

“Where have you been, Jack?” she asks.

He can’t really tell her he’s been to space, and Washington and everywhere in between, so he keeps his gaze on the fire and says, “It was a long mission.”

“I spoke to Daniel earlier this evening,” Sara says. “It’s been hours.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “What did he tell you?”

“What does it matter what he told me, Jack? I’ve been worried sick for the last two weeks – you just up and disappeared, and it took me days to find out from General Hammond that you were on some top secret mission. I was expecting you home hours ago.”

He sighs, turning to look at her. “I’m sorry, Sara, but I had to go help Sam first-”

“So you can go help Sam, but you can’t even pick up a phone to call me, and let me know you’re okay?”

The note of bitterness on Sara’s voice is jarring; she’s rarely been bitter. Only towards the end, after Charlie died, did bitterness creep into her soul, and Jack’s pretty sure he’s the one who put it there.

“You’re right,” he says, looking at her properly. There are dark circles under her eyes, bruises placed there by lack of sleep and worry. Her mouth is tight with tension, and shoulders stiff with anger. The woman who came to him months ago had been vibrant and relaxed and _happy_. This woman on his sofa in his sweatshirt is not happy.

He did this to her, he realises, looking at her huddled on his couch. With neglect and the inability to make her the center of his universe, and she deserves so much better than this.

“I’m so sorry, Sara,” he says, and he feels the weight of the apology from the deepest parts of him.

She sighs, and rubs her face with her hands. When she looks up at him again, he can’t read her expression.  “When that alien, energy thing… when I saw you then, the _real_ you, you reminded me of before. Of a long time before. Of when I first fell in love with you. It was like you’d found a part of yourself you lost a long, long time before we lost Charlie. I couldn’t help you find that, Jack.”

He knows that Sara is right; that something about the Stargate program and the people there, and the things he has seen and learned helped him find a purpose in life and way to accept the darkness in his past, including the loss of Charlie. It doesn’t mean that there aren’t days where things aren’t bad and old feelings get dragged up to the surface, but it does mean they don’t define him anymore.

“We’re different people now, Sara,” he says gently. And Jack, who is usually the worst person when it comes to personal awareness and emotions, realises that maybe he has grown and changed, but maybe Sara hasn’t been able to yet. Maybe she is still clinging to the dream of what was, because she hasn’t found something to live for yet. He’s not sure he can be the person she needs to him to be anymore, or that he ever really was that person.

“I know,” she says, smiling sadly. “You’re a good man, Jack.”

“Just not to you,” he says quietly.

“I think I’m going to go see Mike for a few days,” she says, uncurling from the couch, wrapping her arms around her middle as she tugs the nightgown in tightly.

Distance is probably a good idea, he thinks. “Will you come back?”

“I’ll give you a call,” she says, but doesn’t answer his question. “I’m going to bed now.”

He’s not surprised when he goes to bed some time later to find his bed cold and empty, and the door to a spare room down the hall is shut.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to Nellie.

Sam calls Mark’s number as soon as it’s a civil time in DC, but he doesn’t answer. She tries twice more before calling the facilitator of the home where Mark lives.

“He’s staying with his father for the holidays,” she’s told. “A General Carter.”

“Yes, thank you,” Sam says quietly. “I know who that is.”

She stalls as long as she can — getting herself a drink and finding some dry crackers for breakfast — before sitting back on the sofa and picking up the phone.

He answers on the third ring.

“Hi, Dad,” she says hesitantly. “It’s Sam.”

“This is a surprise,” he says, even though his tone suggests it’s not.

“I was calling to wish Mark a Merry Christmas. Is he there?”

“I thought he was supposed to be spending Christmas with you.”

Sam sighs, closing her eyes. “He was,” she agrees. “I got held up and couldn’t get away.”

“With deep space radar telemetry?” he asks scornfully.

“Dad-”

“It’s a terrible cover story, Sam. Are you telling me things were so busy in deep space you couldn’t even make a phone call?”

“Dad-”

“Or are you going to tell me the truth, and explain how exactly you ended up in prison, charged with treason?”

“How… how did you know?” she stammers, gripping the phone tightly and swallowing roughly.

“I had about five phone calls as soon as they pressed charges.”

“If you knew so quickly, you must have known why.”

The silence tells her he doesn’t know the full story; she can only imagine how frustrated this makes him, because Jacob Carter doesn’t like not being in control of a situation, or his family.

“Do you have any idea what Mark and I have been through-”

“What  _ you _ have been through?” she demands, “How about what I have been through?”

“Sam-”

“No, Dad. You listen to me for a change. I was innocent. I am still innocent. It was a misunderstanding and politically driven, but I helped make a difference. I helped save… I made a difference, and you didn’t even try to help me.”

“What could you possibly have saved, Sam? You’re a scientist, stuck in a mountain, looking at deep space telemetry.”

She’s quiet for a moment, his words carrying that same bitter sting they always have. “And that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it?” she asks quietly, not expecting an answer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that no matter what I do, it’s never going to be good enough. It’s never going to live up to your expectations, is it?”

“That’s not true, Sam, but you’re wasting your life inside that mountain-”

“No, Dad, I’m not. I’m doing amazing work; it’s better than I ever dreamed it could be.”

“But it’s not space, Sam, it’s not-”

“Dad, why can’t you just accept that I’m not going to be an astronaut? I’m happy, and I’m doing incredible work.”

“You might be happy, Sam, but it’s not-”

“Dad,” she says. “Stop. Just stop, okay?”

There’s a huff of irritation down the line, but surprisingly he stays silent for a moment.

“Is Mark there?”

“Yes.”

“Can I talk to him, please?”

She tries hard not to let the bitterness and anger with her father color the brief conversation with Mark. By the time she gives him a final Merry Christmas, her throat is aching with unshed tears and her voice sounds hollow, even to her own ears. The tears are spilling over and running down her cheeks when she hangs up the phone, hot and salty as they creep into the corner of her mouth. She hugs her knees tightly against her chest and lets herself cry deep, aching sobs in a way she hasn’t let herself cry for years.

Afterwards, when her eyes are swollen and her nose is stuffy, she falls asleep on the sofa curled up under a blanket.

\---

A persistent hammering on the door pulls her from her sleep. Her eyes are gritty and swollen, and her head is pounding. Sam drags herself to her feet and peers through the peephole, irritated when she sees Jack standing outside her door; she’s not in the mood for company right now, least of all his. She’s tempted to ignore him and pretend she’s gone out for the day - maybe to the airport - but he’s banging again and calling, “I know you’re there, Sam, I saw the shadow behind the door.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks as she pulls the door open, making no move to step back and invite him in.

“Merry Christmas,” he replies. “What happened to you; you look like crap?”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” she responds automatically. “What do you want?”

He looks slightly perturbed at her rudeness, but refrains from commenting.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he says instead.

“I left it off the hook.”

“And we were worried about you.”

“We?”

“Danel, Teal’c, Fraiser.” He gestures at himself awkwardly. “You know, us.”

“Well, I’m fine. You don’t need to be worried,” she says, starting to close the door.

He puts a hand out and halts the swing the door. “You don’t look fine.”

“Just leave it, Jack. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Can I come in?” he asks. “It’s freezing out here, and you have my jacket.”

She steps back with a sigh and lets him through. When she shuts the door behind him she pauses for a moment, resting her forehead against her door.

“What are you doing here, Jack?” she asks again, watching as he stands in her living room and looks around curiously. “You didn’t come all this way for your jacket.”

“No,” he agrees, “I didn’t.”

Instead of offering more information, he walks over to the single photo Sam has perched on the mantle. It’s a photo of before, when her family was still whole and she was young, a time she still aches for on a regular basis.

“What do you want?” she asks, when he reaches out and picks the photo up, studying it before putting it down carefully in the same spot.

“Sara and I ended things,” he says, and it’s the last thing she expects to hear from him.

“You did?”

“Yeah,” he says, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Well, I think we did.”

She feels a fleeting ache for him, lost and alone on Christmas day, but the ache splinters in her chest and suddenly rage takes hold of her. “Why are you telling me this?”

He looks at her, startled, and then runs a hand over his hair.

“I thought… I don’t know…” he says, jamming his hand back into his pocket and rocking back on his heels.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters.

“What?”

She stalks over to the coat rack and grabs his jacket. “Here’s your damn coat, Jack. Now please, just go.”

He’s bewildered, she can see it by the expression on his face, but right now she doesn’t care. “What did I do?” he asks, ignoring the jacket she’s holding out.

“Are you really this stupid?”

The words are harsh, and he recoils back from her as though she’s wounded him. But right now, Sam’s too angry with him to care about his feelings.

“Really, Jack? You came all the way over here, on Christmas Day, to tell me you  _ think _ things are over between you and your wife?”

“Well, I actually came because Daniel and Fraiser wanted to see if you were okay, and if I could convince you to join us all for Christmas.”

The bitterness tastes sour in Sam’s mouth, but she can’t help it boiling over into the sharp bark of laughter that escapes her. She imagines, with her red eyes and slightly hysterical laughter, she’s looking and acting a bit crazy, but right now she doesn’t care; she’s so very tired of being taken advantage of and not being respected.

“No,” she says shortly, when he continues watching her warily. “No, I’m not joining you for Christmas. And you don’t get to come running to me, to tell me you’re maybe single now, because I’m not interested in being second best, Jack. I’m not interested in being the consolation prize.”

“It’s not like that,” he starts, but she’s really not interested in listening to him.

“Just go,” she says, stepping away. “Tell Janet, Cassie and the guys merry Christmas from me, and lock the door on your way out, please.”

“Sam,” he tries again, but she ignores him and steps into her room, locking the door behind her, and then shutting herself in her en suite. She waits a few moments before turning on the shower, letting the room steam up before she finally stepping under the hot spray of water. She stands there until the water runs cold, but she leaves the water running long after she’s stepped out of the shower, until she figures he’s gone.

She’s heard nothing by the time she’s taken her time getting dressed, drying her hair and applying rarely-worn make-up. When she finally opens the door into her living room, it’s empty, and she’s not sure if she’s relieved or disappointed to find that he’s left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was only a short one! Thanks again for all the comments and for sticking with this story despite the delays between updates :)


End file.
